The Alien Hotspot
by Renzin
Summary: When crazy GrandpaLionel left me his fortune and MontgomeryManor, I expected a nice, quiet life, just me and Tiny the cat. I had everything planned; my job, driving to see friends in the city, acting likea comfortable bachelorette who could kick most people's asses. I did not expect to find a kinky alien who seems to have ingested the insides of a glow stick. But heyho, that's life
1. Chapter 1

The Alien Hotspot

Chapter 1

_Tuesday 5__th__ 2011_

_Dear Spook Book,_

_I found another freaking hidden door in Grandpa's house, a trap door that was previously covered with elf fur rug. It's got these huge iron hinges that I can't stop stubbing my toe over, and the keyhole is large enough to lose a finger in (I tested it). I dropped a stone down there, and I couldn't hear when it hit the bottom. _

_The house officially has it's own bloody cave system._

_I bet there are rats._

_But hopefully also bats!_

_Then I could be Batman if I really wanted to, but I like having Mum and Dad alive._

_Marcus can go shove himself into the keyhole himself._

_Of course I had to discover it by tripping over the keyhole at 2am running to catch Mum trying to call me from Germany._

_And it was also necessary that Tiny be there for me to flatten. He punished me by fucking up my arms with his stupid claws, and now my black pjs have to be washed again cause they're covered with his malting fur. _

_I really need a torch. _

_Yours truly, _

_Val._

I closed the flimsy leather journal with a click of the sealing buckle, put down the gothic fountain pen down with the lid on and make my way out of bed. It's huge, with mountains of pillows and drapes that block out the devilish sunlight from blinding me in my fragile state (caffeine addicts say 'aye'). I tripped over the extra duvets that I've disguarded throughout the night, being a violent sleeper that tosses and turns a lot. To be honest, it's a small miracle that I didn't wake up on the floor cocooned in the duvets themselves.

3 months after moving in, and I'm still not used to this place; Grandpa's old house is chaotically large, with winding passages and doors, the upper levels visible from below because of the open rails and gaps in the floor, like some sort of endless library. The actual library even has one of those ladders with wheels that are attached to the iron handrails. Each generation of Montgomery has left their own mark in the original family home, ever since the Civil War, when the good ol' Montgomery brothers, Edger and Rodger Montgomery fought the British with all they had. The grounds used to occupy a small town that now only exists as rumble and the occasional wall still standing in the forest. The house itself was built over the remains of the district's fort, but was renovated to an extent to make it more 'homely'; either way, Edger and Rodger kept the stone structure in tact as much as possible, working around the actual trunks of trees and trying to piece together structures that had survived the war, so that it could pass as the lair of Gandalf after winning the lottery.

Overall, Montgomery Manor (how intimidating does that sound?) looks the castle from the Rocky Horror show fell from the sky crashed into Bilbo Baggins' hobbit hole. The centre of the living room is actually built around a bloody tree that covers the roof with a green head of hair. The bark itself hasn't even been smoothed down inside, apart from where Great Grandpa Thomas decided he needed a new armchair and 1.5 metres of the trunk from the floor upwards hollowed out and polished with a door. Literally, the only reason you know its there is because of the amber doorknob jutting out from the bark. The width of the truck is also almost 2 metres, making it the centre of attention in the living room. It's a real journey walking all the way around it, so one of my other cooky relatives decided to build a mantle piece like shelf all the way around the perimeter (apart from the door that's covered by thick Persian drapes), filled with various lace and china oddities, portraits and a swanky Turkish sword that hasn't left the scabbard for a few hundred years.

The newer parts of the manor are mainly made up of brick that's covered by rugged carpet like wallpaper or great logs of dark wood, held in order in their iron fastenings. A lot of the original grey stone slabs of the fort's tower are still present, though have been cut and shaped in curved rooms. All in all, the place is a confusion of open corridors and stone and wood fighting to conquer each other. Being the hearty old Americans that my father's family are, dozens of furs, mounted elk and bear heads and weapons live all over the walls, bolted down so that I've been forced to get used to their long dead eyes judging me while I eat breakfast or drool on the couch after a movie marathon. I'm essentially living in a hunting lodge, all heavy resin and tobacco smells and hearty, thick fires.

From the outside, it doesn't look too big; there's a sort of Tardis 'bigger on the inside' voodoo that applies, though the exterior is still as ostentatious. The shape mirrors the twisting, angular trees around it, various parts of the roof higher than others and oddly shaped windows peaking out. The stone steps are covered in a fuzzy green moss and creepers pull themselves up the wall, staining it like wine as if the manor is slowly becoming a part of the forest.

I still don't fully accept that Grandpa Lionel gave me this place in his will, half of his hefty savings from his life and his share of the company. Not even Dad got as much, and he was his son!

Sure, the crazy gene in the Montgomery's seemed to skip my Dad's generation (him and his siblings rarely visited after they left), and Marcus and I were the only ones that enjoyed visiting and staying for Easter holidays, but common, 65% of an engineering firm when I've only just finished my masters'?

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Grandpa was off his rocker.

Admittedly, Marcus owns half the manor, but he's being all fancy shmansy living the glamorous life as a model in Manhattan. Yeah, who knew being a straight male albino with abs paid so well?

Let me get this straight, I'm not complaining; I love this place, it holds memories that I cherish, even though I still am convinced this place is haunted. The wood seems to creak and moan at night, and woe betides if you watch any horror film over 15+ on your own here. Grandpa refused to leave the blue prints for us, and in his will stated that we had to be true to the family spirit and discover all of Montgomery Manor's secrets. At the time I was like pffft right you crack pot, you're not serious.

But he was.

In the hidden bathroom behind the 3rd second floor shelf of the library (classic) there was the first part of the blue prints of the entire library and the grounds of that wing.

Three other pieces of the blue prints have been found, all as some sort of reward for finding each secret door or safe or whatever. As a Montgomery, even in death Lionel is training me to treat life like some endless Indiana Jones movie.

I've taken to pulling out my 'spook book', and writing entries in it, recording my findings and the goings on of this house, just in case I'm found weeks latter chopped to pieces in the pantry. I've put Lionel's most confusing legacy he left me to good use; the fountain pen he seemed to write everything with, which still lives at the desk of his old study, now peaking out of my work sheets, print outs and stationary.

You may be wondering why on Earth is a 24 year old woman is doing living in the middle of nowhere like some evil warlord.

To be honest, so am I.

Everyone was shocked when Grandpa's will was read; Dad and his three siblings were pissed off even though they always went on about how horrible Lionel was to them, Mum just laughed like a deranged women at the "mad white people" (ahh racism), Marcus called the deceased "a cool dude who lived a bangin' life" and I sat there in shock as my relatives glared at the girl (who most had never met) who had just inherited the bulk of the family fortune.

Aunt Eleanor screeched about it, claiming there must be a mistake because her and her family only inherited the yote.

Cousin Benji told me that I had the Montgomery family curse and would be even scarier and crazier than had been Grandpa Lionel and would die with only my cat Tiny and my scandalous secrets for company.

Dad offered to buy me out, as I was too young to bother myself in the company.

Grandpa Lionel's long lost brother in Australia called and told me to not trust anyone and do my duty. (?)

Of course, by pestering me to give away my inheritance, I decided to keep it all and bloody well make use of it.

I'm a peaceful sorta person (usually), who appreciates old stuff like the Manor, and would happily make it my home. Which is what I've been doing. Sure my clothes now stink of the manor now, and I have the urge to walk around in my satin robe + slippers with a pipe, but I've never owned anything so…important. Besides its much more interesting than my previous apartment, made up of a bedroom, kitchen/living room and bathroom that I kept getting locked in. All my belongings are now spread through the house, Tiny's marked his territory and seems to really like his kingdom (he knows all the hidden passages already, but won't freaking tell me!), and I've started to make 'my mark' in my family home, which basically means I've made sure every room has something electronic in, and perfected the Wifi connection.

I opened all the windows I came across and fell into the mandatory routine of airing my bed and dusting away at the surfaces that were cleaned in the same manner the day before. I don't know why, but having to clean the manor on my own isn't as much of a task as I thought I would be; as long as its done as soon as possible, I can get on with my work so that the afternoons are free and lazy. Admittedly, I find it oddly therapeutic, and the vacuum drowns out my booming singing shamelessly so I can pretend it's actually the roar of adoring fans (big woop).

It was kind of sad yet exciting, moving through all the rooms at first; many were still well kept and showed signs of regular use because Grandpa Lionel died of a heart attack quite suddenly, and was always buzzing around with some wacky project of the week. I've pitched tent (not literally mind you) in the main bedroom, which like the rest of the house, is dressed in thick fur rugs, ligneous furniture and the ostentatious decorations of busts and ornaments that most old families pass down the line. The living room, study, dining room, conservatory (now the motherfuckin' games room yeaaaah!) and a few others were clean and pretty much presentable, with additions of a TV, games consoles, landline, and recent photos of Mum, Dad, Marcus and my friends.

The kitchen was pretty out of date, and while Grandpa never used a maid or anything like that as far as I knew, obviously held the traits of being a servants dwelling that the masters of the house rarely entered. It was the one room with out the usual decorations, so once renovated looked fairly modern. Marcus and I banded together one weekend and painted the room and bright white, laid down a wooden floor and had all the necessary appliances fitted in, along with bottle green counters that matched the oven and the view of the greenery through the window outside.

Other then that, apart from the concealed mysteries that were still unknown to me, the only other rooms were bedrooms and bathrooms that hadn't been used for a very long time. Unlike the rest of the house that was tidied and showed signs of use, these had doors that were stiff in their frames, tired mattresses on dusty beds and scaled over windows and mirrors. There were no personal possessions or attempts to make them comfortable, apart from the standard wooden 4 poster beds, vanities, wardrobes, empty shelves and desks with respective chairs that all matched yet varied in style, grain and shade of the polish for each room.

It was really uncomfortable to see these, so devout of life; these were my aunts, father's and uncles old rooms before they 'escaped' to university and what not, though a few were also for long gone guests.

I knew that Grandpa Lionel was a stubborn, rude, fanatic that had a genius intellect, which made the family business so successful, and that his overbearing ways alienated his kids who were too much like their mother. I never was told the details, other than the regular, thunderous fights with father, sons and daughters, and the resentment they carried against a lonely old man.

Its heart breaking to think how happy Grandpa Lionel was when Marcus and I actually liked listening to his endless stories and theories, and that the Manor was a haunted house for us that as kids had to be discovered. I think he was upset that the craziness of the Montgomery's decided to ignore his own children, so he made due with pretending that we were his second chance at passing down his knowledge.

Most people have no idea why he was so fascinated with us. Marcus I could kind of understand; he's loud, impulsive and pranks people like it's the end of the world. It used to drive Dad crazy when Lionel encouraged him, saying he was 'spirited' and told my Dad that Marcus had more balls than he did. Marcus flew through high school as a typical all rounder (despite having to wear the entire sunscreen bottle for every gym class outside), gained a degree in Media Studies and started out as a photographer for a newspaper before he met his modelling agent who now helps him make piles of cash.

I on the other hand, am reserved in unfamiliar company and need to always have something in my hands to fix or entertain myself with. The garage (which looks like a ranger's cabin but smells of gas, concrete and burning rubber) is large enough to fit my lathe, carpeting tools, work bench and a mechanic's necessities for fiddling around with scrap pieces of metal, though Lionel's (now _my) _XK120 1948 Jaguar lives there out of harms way.

I frankly have no idea what magic Grandpa used to keep it in such beautiful _working _condition, though I'm terrified to try it out on the highway. No sir, uh uh. Thankfully, I was not impulsive enough to sell my trusty BMW midnight blue M35i.

Books are regular companions of mine as well, another reason for moving; the Manor's library would have given Belle from Beauty and the Beast an orgasm, it's so magnificent. Along with the wheelie ladder, you can re-enact songs from My Fair Lady pretty well.

After college, admittedly I was leaning towards using Lionel's contacts to get into the business, mainly onto the designing side, like an Architectural Engineer. Creating structural works of art has always interested me. I had already done a cringe worthy internship at Montgomery Engineering Ltd, impressing my superiors with my ideas and passion, and wanted to apply some where outside of familiar territory with Lionel as my safety net before considering joining the family firm.

However now, I couldn't exactly do that.

Now I had decided to join the company and fairly work my way up the firm to become an employee worthy of the position I held because of my shares and blood relation. Sure I was technically my own boss, and rarely worked away from the mansion (the wonder of Skype company meetings, emails and scanning printers), but as I told Lionel's old business partner and friend James Nott (looks just like Santa) I wasn't going to be held responsible for ruining all of Grandpa's legacy because I was too naïve to know what I was doing. Nott's been a great help, integrating me into the firm with a team of trusty colleagues that never mention my heightened status, which is a relief. He keeps me updated when I miss something even if it's a menial thing, and offers advice methodically when I need it.

And I'm happy with my decision, no matter how many times Dad sniffs that I'll forget about the outside world, Mum calls and cries because she's not used to me visiting every weekend with Marcus, or Aunt Eleanor leaves a message about me 'hoarding' the family fortune and 'tricking' Grandpa Lionel into liking me.

Because nothing says manipulative bitch like wanting to spend time with your misunderstood Grandfather.

Sure, I'm isolated, young and too rich for my own good, but I know I'm smart, and I don't take risks without knowing every single option and my chances of success. The only money I've spend from my new pot of gold has been for the house, with a few cheeky heels and games subscriptions on the side.

It's still hard to get used to, because I don't feel any different; overwhelmed, yes; excited yet missing Lionel, of course. But I think this is what I need; to be knocked off my donkey and strive to master the largest fucking stallion I can.

Oh god did I really just…

_Perhaps I do need to hook up with some one soon. _

I suppose it's a good thing that my friends and I have come to a compromise; we're close, many of us bonding over cosplaying, football, out of date beer and fandom arguments like you wouldn't believe. Most are from college, who are easy to stay in touch with because I'm already in the habit of constantly texting, snap chatting, calling, tweeting (ect) them. And while I now can't walk down to my best friend Tilly's house and steal her mushroom pizza before the delivery boy even makes it to her apartment, we've sorted out this system of my inner circle dragging me back to our safe haven, Billy's Bar in NYC every Friday fortnight. Even though I miss them terribly, I can't help but love the way they all randomly knock on my door with beer, extra Xbox or PS3 controllers and food.

You would not believe how excited they were with they first came here and I told them the history of the Manor; Kev, Alex and Ellie all arranged a massive AC3 party here which involved scarily accurate cosplaying and running around the place for hours, filming our attempts and 'assassinating' the Templars.

The next on the bucket list is using the ruins of the old town to re enact scenes from The Hobbit and LOTR.

But as much as I hate the tightening feeling in my gut of missing my friends, I have to admit I love being alone here, just me and Tiny chilling like rich bitches and surveying our woodland kingdom.

I figured that my life would continue down this new route of work, escaping to NYC, living like a rich bachelorette until I either a) died like Cousin Benji said I would, b) got hitched and passed down the crazy Montgomery gene with some poor, unsuspecting lad.

A morning run came next after acting as housemaid. I threw my corkscrew curls up, swapped my pjs for trackies and the same baggy Darth Vader t-shirt and pulled on my trainers, running through the house and out the huge front door. Of course, tradition dictated that I sprinted back to stop it from closing so that I could retrieve my house keys first. After a brief stretch, I picked up a safe pace down the wide forest trail, sighing as the chirping of birds and the chilly spring breeze peeled away my sleepiness.

It was so beautiful here, how had I managed to resist the countryside for the city for so long?

The ent-like trees hovered over the ground, so that I had to throw all my weight to jump across their winding roots. Even after 30 minutes, I was huffing and puffing at having to steer through the obstacle course. However I pressed onwards, until I reached the shabby Montgomery Manor sign that hung from a broken stone archway, the gothic black barred gate moaning with the strain of staying in place.

When I got back satisfied that I was saturated in enough sweat, Tiny was plodding up the stairs, not even looking back to acknowledge my arrival. I hastily took an unmercifully cold shower, rubbing away the slick grime that had accumulated in my thick roots.

The great thing about living alone is how free it is to walk around bare naked without a hint of shame. I winced slightly at the bounce of my breasts as I sat down in my room to start drying and attempting to tame my hair with a flimsy plastic comb.

By the time that was done (45 bloody minutes later, mind you), I searched my wardrobe to decide on a stretching pink sports bra and matching panties, black drawstring slacks and my trusty fitted '_No one expects…the Spanish Inquisition!' _t-shirt. I donned the most flashy glittery pink (not to mention fluffy!) socks I could find as well, because my tootsies were cold.

It's no fun getting a cold when there's no one around to be your slave to fetch and carry food until you can actually breath.

Before I headed down to breakfast, I vaguely noted my reflection in the bathroom mirror and for some reason I snorted. On meeting me, you'd probably notice my hair first, a curtain of wild, dyed dark bloody red curls that get stuck to everything, doorknobs, other people, cat claws, you name it. My original colour was like Dad's, a sort of warm sandy brown that hasn't been seen for years on my head, which I'm sort of proud of because my red hair is my pride and joy, if I'm honest.

I suppose most people would notice my skin next, which while it isn't as pale as Marcus', still earns me the nickname 'Val the Vamp'. Then there's also my standard blue eyes, classically shaped nose and big pouty pink lips. Thankfully, my eyebrows have a good shape and thickness, because I'd probably get carried away drawing them and make myself look like Spock.

My slacks flare out with my hips, mimicking the curve of my 'bountiful boobs' (Tilly's description, not mine) as an hourglass shape. I'm fitter than most grown ups, having used sport as a way to stress relieve, and I'm skilled as a mixed martial artist even though I only ever started so that I could learn how to beat up Marcus (still can). To be honest, I'm obsessed with working out nowadays because I was a seriously chubby kid in high school.

_Never again. _

I have scarily muscly legs, with abs and even that v shape thingy that looks so sexy on men!

It's a little awkward that my ex (_all_ those years ago) didn't when I did.

Breakfast was quickly made today, just fruit loops and soya milk in a large striped bowl. I hummed as I thought of the day ahead and lazily meandered to the living room. I shook my head as I'm still not used to seeing a giant tree there. As I combed the curls of the rouge carpet with my toes, I paused at the sight of Grandpa Lionel's portrait in an elegant gold frame, high above the TV that sits a top the currently dead fireplace.

Lionel was less than a decade younger in the oil painting; he had the curly hair I inherited from him, already a stark white that gave him a sort of mad scientist persona that he was pretty proud of. A cunning smirk and mocking eyebrow was raised, and because the portrait was so large, his egg blue eyes were striking, even at the distance I was at.

I feel like I still am in denial that he's dead; Lionel would probably snort if he knew that I had barely cried about it, and say something along the lines of '_thank god you're not a pansy'_. It's not that I don't miss him; everything felt a little too simple and mediocre without that madman, another reason for moving into the Manor. Everything here oozed Lionel Bartholomew Montgomery, faithfully retaining his lust for secrets and wild adventure till the end. The walls hold his memories, souvenirs and stamps on the world he's now left.

But even now, I'm waiting for him to jump out of the chandelier and cackle about some Back To The Future gizmo that he's been testing, or how he's been on a quest for glory and to save the world.

I figure he'd make a good Dragonborn.

My own eyes are glued in place, picking up the artist's miniscule olive strokes as shading of his eyes, so realistic, even the brilliant glaze of white makes it look like I could just lean in and grab them like marbles.

I shoved my fruit loops in my mouth messily and stretched up to touch Grandpa's pupils in a trance, a thousands thoughts jumping around at the possibilities.

_What if it's another trap door?_

Only inches away now, the fireplace digging into my chest.

_What if Grandpa Lionel really IS alive, behind this-_

"ROARRRRRRRR!"

I screamed for dear life and dropped my cereal, spasming with terror and fell backwards over the arm of a leather sofa. I flipped out it so that my legs dangled over my torso and I stubbed my nose in my knees.

"Owieee…"

What the hell! The noise sounded like it came from outside, a horrible contortion of mountain lion and bear; but there wasn't any game as large as that this close to the house, was there?

I sat upright again and stumbled to the kitchen window that faced directly in front of the manor. I waited for what felt like hours, but jumped yet again when the thunderous roar happened again.

That didn't sound like Bambi at all.

_Ok, ok. Crazy noise outside. What do you do? _

Obviously, I had to find out what it was. Because that's what a sane person would do.

I scrambled past my breakfast, soggy in the carpet and pressed down on the sliding panel in the side of the staircase by the door. After flicking the lights so hard I scratched my finger, I flew down the concrete stairs to find my self in the basement.

It was just one large open space under the entire house. To one corner I had arranged spare antiques and boxes of crap, along side Lionel's stash of canned food (I assume in case of some nuclear disaster). The rest I had made use of the springy wooden floor, which was now sat on by my own personal gym (weights, rowing machine, stretching mat, punching bags, the works). My martial arts gii was hanging spread out on pegs against the wall, along side my padding and further down my weapons collection.

Yeah, you heard me.

Motherfucking _pointy things!_

I don't really know what came first, the training with a bo staff and tonfus in my old club or the cosplaying obsession. Of course with my fascination with projects and making things, they were all fairly accurate and handmade by moi; throwing knives, leather armour, bow and arrow, blades and robes all inspired by Assassin's Creed were sitting in their cases, polished and beckoning the beholder. I had been planning on starting the shield for a Captain America cosplay soon, so sealed cans of metal paint lay in the corner as well.

Like a greedy kid in Honeydukes, I rushed forward and laced on the engraved bracers that held steel hidden blades.

They were my pride and joy, and though I'd never _attacked _someone in self-defence with these badboys, I knew how to use them.

I also pulled on the holster of my own design and tucked a small amount of throwing knives in there.

I finally pocketed some pepper spray, for funsies.

_Girl, hurry up! You'll miss the showdown!_

Wait, _showdown_? What is this, a freaking cage fight?

Tiny was licking his balls on the staircase when I came out.

"Bye Tiny! Avenge me if I get eaten!"

A sarcastic snort was my only reply as I legged out of the house. After 10 minutes of running aimlessly, I realised that I wasn't on the trail anymore, and that I had no idea where I was trying to get to.

Thank god no one lived nearby, and was watching me running around like a lunatic dreaming of become a part of the Order.

_Hey! I'm not insane!_

Dude, it runs in the family.

_Embrace itttttt!_

I slid to a halt and paced awkwardly, trying to work out my plan of attack. Right, so I've run outside with the intention of what? Killing whatever animal made that noise?

Hell no! I've only ever hunted with Grandpa Lionel, and that was fluffy bunnies and deer with a modern bow and arrow!

Besides, 'save the planet' and all that!

_Ok then, I'm just going to poke around and satisfy my curiosity. _

Curiosity killed the cat.

Mind you, if it came down to a show down with Tiny, curiosity would have to have a closed casket funeral service.

"Common, big scary bear, shout for me!" I threw my arms out mockingly at the sky. When no thunderbolts reigned down and granted me super powers, I huffed and kicked the dirt. "Gee, I feel _so_ special."

Why did it work for Thor and not me!

Since now I was out here, I might as well take my time getting back. It was a Sunday, which meant no work other than emailing Nott a completed report on the team's current project of a new amphitheatre. We'd finally replaced the design for the roof, and contacted our usual industrial materials team to sort out that stuff. The report was already written up, I just needed to click send and stroke Tiny in my swivel chair while evilly laughing.

Lionel really would be proud.

So I walked around, cheering when I managed to climb trees (almost) unscathed with branches lower than my head and giggling every time I stuck a pose and flicked my wrist blades out.

"Watch out for the greatest assassin ever to have killed, the elusive, goddamn sexy Valentina the Vampire! Grrr!"

"_Grrrrrarrrrr…"_

I yelped and jumped over a rotting log, hiding in sparring stance for whatever had answered me. I twisted around, slowly backpedalling away with narrowed eyes. It sounded close, but where….

Oh shit.

…That ain't no grizzly bear.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It took me 3 months alone in the Manor to go stark raving mad.

Looks like Cousin Benji _was_ right, because there's no way that this would be happening to a sane person.

_Normal_ people don't find aliens that sound like chain-smoking ban saws covered in the guts of a green glow stick. Said alien wouldn't be glaring at me and clicking with saliva dripping off motherfucking _mandibles,_ while being stuck under a tree.

…Right?

It just looks so…_real_. There are no wrinkles from a latex suit, or smudges of stage makeup, and surely the constant growling would hurt too much by now for a man.

I can't have imagined this on my own, it look nothing like pasty old ET!

It's stuck in an extremely odd angle, on its back with its left arm covered and the leg on that side bent at an awkward angle, so that the knees are touching but the actual foot is also under the tree. Luckily for it, the truck is thin, but all the trees here are giants, so no matter how much he struggles as I approach, it ain't budging.

It kinda looks like it's playing 'Freeze' while doing the Charleston.

OHHH! If aliens have cable or a VCR or whatever, does this mean they've seen '_It's A Wonderful Life'_?

The alien drags out its free arm towards me and claws at the ground, like it's marking its territory and woe betide if I cross the circle of dust it's drawn. I can't suppress the yelp I release at the sudden movement, and give it a withering glare that is weak at best.

My chest hurts so much, it's like my heart's having its own panic attack and is trying to eject itself out of my rib cage.

Yeah, I'm close to hyperventilating.

The alien let out a snarl, as it's molten amber eyes glared at me and it clicked its mandibles so harshly I was surprised it didn't chip the tusks. While it was utterly terrifying, I forced down a gulp of air and squared my shoulders.

Man, this thing was…_interesting._

A heavy, hairless brow and protruding cranium, with thick tubule like strands that were a sleek black. I assumed it was some kind of hair, though it looked courser and dense, sort of like electricity cables. Various metallic rings and tiny chains hung here and there with leaves and twigs poking out from the forest floor, making him look like an extremely pimped up gladiator.

_Did aliens even have sex drives? _

Or for that matter, even a porn industry.

…Not that I was going to ask anytime soon.

Best not to freak out the feral alien by acting like a horny beaver.

From what I could see of his body that wasn't trapped, was extremely intimidating. Layers upon layers of muscles, some of which I'm pretty sure humans weren't capable of having, partially covered by some sort of protective loin cloth (probably a dude then), plates of metal armour moulded into his shape and straps which held all sorts of freaky uber space-agey weapons. As if the arsenal in his mouth wasn't already enough, he had thick claws and talons thicker that two of my own fingers. His skin was another shock; it was reptilian with pebble like scales that looked soft and taught, more like a snake that the rougher hide of a lizard. The tone was actually beautiful, a caramel base on the chest, face and the insides of his limbs, while his back, the crest of his head, shoulders and the rest of his arms and legs were saturated with speckles of dark earthy greens and browns.

At this point, we'd been having our laser beam staring contest for so long my eyes were twitching and my fingers were starting to cramp. I reminded myself that this guy couldn't do squat for now therefore no point staying in a fighting stance, so I straightened up and hopped forward for a closer look.

Immediately, Motor-mouth revved up the growling, this time with a cool flaring of his mandibles. The exposed cream mouth was visible now, with carnivorous teeth bared.

"Hey, it's ok," I cooed, crouching down with a shaky smile, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Come any closer ooman, and I will crush your puny neck!" He snarled.

Well, that was uncalled for.

_It speaks! It lives!_

I gaped at him. So he's just threatened me. What do I do?

Get pissy of course.

"What the hell!" I screeched, "I'm just trying to help!"

He huffed, before his eyes widened with pain with the movement of his ribs. Evidently he didn't want to show it, because he quickly covered it up with a snarl like it was _my _fault. "_Kha'bj-te ooman" _**[crazy ooman].**

I narrowed my eyes as I got up, pretty certain that he wasn't quoting sonnets. Why by Altair's left butt cheek am I helping him?

I'll tell you why, because I'm a _good_ _person_. Yeah, take a long look; I hear we're pretty rare nowadays.

I quickly assessed that the tree was luckily thinner and shorter than the other standing ones, as I didn't think that Killer Croc's super powers would stand any more weight. A human definitely wouldn't, but I have a feeling he's an alien with a god complex or something. One end of the tree was wedged in place by an eroding crop of rocks, so getting my BMW and some robes to roll it off or lift it was out of the question.

I seriously had no idea what to do; I'd come here with the intention of saving the day, but even with my awesome ninja skills and swanky gear couldn't do squat.

I was considering telling Killer Croc to suck it up and think of good times before he starved to death or something until I got an idea so simple I actually hit my own head with the heel of my palm.

"I'm so stupid, why didn't I think of that before!"

"You sound surprised, _tarei hsan _**[bug]**. I worked that out before you even spoke." Croc sneered at me.

I really, really, _really_ want to kiss this guy's face with my _boot_. He doesn't even deserve my help from what I've seen, but _of course_, that doesn't stop me now that I've decided to be heroic and all.

"Ha _ha_, very funny. Gold star for originality!" I clapped my hands mockingly. "Now, you stay here, I'll be back."

"Paya help me…"

I gave a huff, flicked my hair over my shoulder and stomped away in the direction I came.

It took a while to find the trail again, but after that I could easily see the Manor's steeples peeking through the parting of the tree canopy. I veered off to the side and jogged into the garage, lazily patting the bonnets of the two cars lovingly on my journey.

"Where is it...I spy, with my little-bingo!" I smirked at my triumph, the unopened box of a rather large chainsaw. From the pictures and cheesy graphic designs on the cardboard, it looked pretty badass, and perfect for the job. The manufacturers were nice enough to have included those hard plastic handles on the side, so I could drag my prize to the truck of the BMW. As a second thought, I went back and retrieved protection for my ears, eyes and hands and pulled my bloody curls into a tight pony before swiftly braiding it and tucking it into my t-shirt. I unlocked the car, loaded up and backed out smoothly.

It took about 10 minutes to get back to the spot where I went off the trail, where I remembered a snapped of archway standing on its own and leaning on the tree that had grown around it. Another 5 minutes were wasted with me removing the chainsaw from the box and it's protective packaging, bustling over its impressive teeth and shiny red paint job. I slapped on my gloves, goggles and hard-capped ear muffs and followed my messy tracks from before.

It didn't cross me as a bad thing that I looked like the love child of a lumberjack and a swash-buckling pirate, but by Croc's bulging eyes, I think it did to him.

He started manically pushing himself away from me _under _the log and sending dirt flying at my feet with his free limbs. "_Pauk_ this! **[Fuck this!]** You're not cutting me up for you primitive scientists, ooman!"

Ahh, the effect I have on people!

"Jesus calm down, I'm going to cut the tree, not you!"

_Don't tempt me. _

I flailed a hand towards a section of the truck further down. "I can't get you out as long as the tree's stuck under those boulders!"

Croc paused for a second, crossed his mandibles in an 'O' shape and cocked his head, before dismissing me with a snort. "Stupid ooman, what makes you think that I didn't know that?"

I gaped at him, before bursting out with uncontrollable laughter. "You're kidding me! Oh god, how dumb do you think I am? I can remember what you said 5 seconds ago!"

"_You_ must be the idiot! What kind of ooman looks at it's doom and tries to _help _it!"

I snorted, gasping between breaths. "Man, you're cracking me up! You're trapped under a _tree, _the only things who you're doom to are the poor insects you're crushing!"

I truly am crazy, because when he flared his mandibles with rage and release an earth trembling roar, I just waved him off and sauntered over to the where I was going to make my incision. I had to fiddle around with a few safety catches while ignoring Croc's unique cursing that involved a lot of clicking and gargled words I didn't understand, but after holding down the (who would've guessed) big red trigger button and pulling the cord to start the motor, I raised my weapon and let it devour the wood.

I really wish Ellie was here with her polka dot polaroid camera to catch me in all my glory, though I don't think she'd enjoy the noise from the beast I wielded, considering that she hates listening to music in cars.

Freak.

_Hypocrite. _

Shut up!

I was going along, fine and dandy for about 20 minutes when I finished the notch (v shape) so that I could pierce the middle of the trunk. A glance at Croc told me that he was still giving me the stink eye and clenching his fist as if my neck was there.

I gulped and continued my work with a little less chirpiness.

Ah little later, I was interrupted by Croc trying to shout something to me, but I couldn't hear.

"WHAT?"

"I SAID, TURN OFF THE-"

"WHAAAATTT?"

"TURN IT OFFFFF!"

"WHAA-AIEEEEEE!" I threw myself backward and scrambled away with my head ducked between my hands on the ground. I hadn't realized that I had started cutting at an angle closing in on horizontal as Croc had tried to get my attention, and now it was screeching and trying to get free of the confinement of the trunk. Then it spluttered and died as we watched it sag and start to smoke.

After a very long pause, I of course was the one to break the silence.

"Pffft, 3 year guarantee my ass."

Croc glared at me like I had just told him I wore reptile skin unitards.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"_Pauk-de _ooman, **[fucking human]** beaten by a tree!"

I huffed, ignoring my flushed face. "Oh quit whining, it's you're fault, you distracted me!" Scrambling up from the ground, I brushed off dirt on my clothes and scratched my head in frustration. "What were you trying to tell me anyway?"

Croc's lower mandibles spread condescendingly, and he rose his err…eyebrow muscle. "Should have listened, ooman."

"You were talking over the noise of a bloody chainsaw!"

He sneered, "Forgot oomans have terrible hearing, truly _kiande th'syra _**[thick skull].**"

I whirled around at him and pointed my finger like it was a deadly weapon. "THAT'S IT! You can fucking rot or be eaten by squirrels for all I care! I'm done, since you don't even appreciate my help!" I had already planned to go home and soak in the bath until my DNA changed to that of a prune, when what Croc said next pulled me back.

"Ooman! Come back! Will tell you what I said!"

I slowly pivoted and went to crouch before his face. "And why should I give a flying feathered fuck about that anymore?"

Several emotions flitted across his face and he looked like whatever he was going to say pained him to the core.

"Well? I haven't got all day!" I did, but he didn't need to know that.

"NO! Ooman, wait!" Croc grabbed my ankle tightly and squeezed his eyes shut. "Am…sorry, for offending you, _lou-dte kale _**[female, child-maker]**. Need help." He growled, "Need _your _help, _sei _**[yes]**?"

Holy crackers, is…he apologising?

_Do my ears deceive me? _

No way was I going to let this slide _that _easily however.

I crossed my arms with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. "Uh huh, I can see that."

"Was …uhhh...dishonourable for me to anger you. Won't happen again, _sei?"_

"Oh really?" I took my time studying him, internally dancing with glee and my poker face obviously made him squirm. Eventually though, I gave pity. Besides, I wouldn't be too cheery either if I couldn't breathe because a tree was sunbathing on top of me. "Fine, I'll help. But _one more word_…" I threatened.

He gave a sharp nod before getting down to business. He raised his free arm with a noticeable wince and motioned to something behind me. "Attention. Bring my med bag."

I didn't trust myself to spoil the hard ass act I had on, so I just gave a sharp nod and got up to inspect the area behind me. After a grunting version of 'hot and cold', I located a small silver box that was battered and dented across the leafy clearing and made my way back to Croc for confirmation.

"Good, ooman. Inside, take blue liquid, pour on tree, _sei?"_

"Sure thing. Now how do you…ah, got it!" I smirked triumphantly when the bruised lid popped open.

"Can see that."

Small grey clasps held rectangular glass cylinders, all with labels in Croc's language and containing a prism of fantastically coloured liquids that shook with my footsteps. One with a particularly long label and a greyish dark blue liquid was the first one I spotted. I eased it out of its confines and walked over to wear the smoking chainsaw was still chillin' (heh, but it's not, because it's smokin' and…yeah) in the trunk, leaving the med bag next to me on the ground. I gave a sceptical glance at Croc before pouring a little onto the wood.

Nothing happened.

No explosion, fireworks, pretty lights, nada.

"Ermm Croc ol' boy, you're plan's gone to squat, unless you've got more random boxes around for an Easter egg hunt."

_Or would it be an Easter alien chemistry set hunt? _

Croc puffed up and turned to glare again. "What are you saying, ooman-STOP! STOP NOW OOMAN!"

"AHHH WHAT! WHY?!"

"JUST-" He have a stuttering warning growl, "Wrong one, _kiande th'syra! _That is healing potion! Will die from wounds without it!"

"Are you kidding me?! You said use the blue one!"

"Is the WRONG blue one! _Pauk-de _ooman!"

"Hey hey hey!" I trust my finger at him again and stomped, "Leave the cockiness for the horny hens and that farm yard kink, ok?! Now shut up so I can look again!"

"Did your sire drop you as a suckling?! Do not want to meet Cetanu today! Must Hurry!"

"'Suckling', what am I, offspring of a cow? You're not doing a good job as representing your race buddy," I searched through the box again, thinking maybe the green one could be mistaken for an aquamarine shade that he meant. "And who's Cetanu? Why don't you want to meet him?"

"Paya! Shut up ooman! I beg of you!"

"Hey! You mentioned a Paya before! You _know_, it's really rude to make plans and then just _not_ show up; you should really call and cancel first, or grow a pair. Of course, unless you guys have different genitals and stuff, I mean if it's not normal for you guys to have them. I would think you would but- Oh shit, that's not what I meant! I wasn't-"

_Reallll smooth, Va._

Well he _is _rather…you know…

I think I need to hit my head with my own falling tree to forget this.

"Ooman! Do not dare disgrace the gods!"

"But- wait, so you don't mind me asking about-"

"YES I DO OOMAN! Know I am great, do not need to prove to _you_." He sneered, though with a cute little blush.

I was already hot under the collar, and gave my best snarl back. "Whateverrrr." I tried not cringe at the whiney 'teen' voice I used.

Meanwhile, I had poured the third liquid onto the trunk, forming a horrible brown solution that smelt of vinegar. "Ermmm…Crockie?"

"_Pauk_, ooman I will make you eat your own skin if you call me that!"

Dually noted.

_And ignored._

"Sure thing…_Croc_."

"How DARE you- _c'jit _**[shit] **ooman! Stop wasting my supplies!"

"I'm _sorry_! None of them work!"

"Use the BLUE one! NO-"

There goes the cherry red one…

"There IS NO BLUE ONE! The only one that's blue was the first, and that did fuck all!"

"NO! NOT THAT ONE!"

"OH SHUT UP CROC!"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT! STOP!"

"NONE OF THEM WORRRRRKKK!"

At that point, I reached a bubble pink one that smelt of liquor, raspberries and something deep and musky. I swayed a little when I popped open the cork, feel very floosy all of a sudden. When I poured all of it onto the trunk (still without anything happening), I giggled and sashayed over to Croc as he emitted a high-pitched squeal. It reminded me of when you attack a male's delicate area.

"Heyyyyyyyy, Crockie…why the longggggggg face?" I stumbled away with another giggle as he furiously flailed to get at me. "Awwww, common, don't be angry at Val, she's not _that_ bad!"

"I will feed you to the _zabin_ **[large insect native to Yaut (Yautja home planet)]**, so help me Paya!"

"There you go with that Paya chick again! Wait that reminds me, I need to save you so that you can apologise to her and the Cetanu dude!"

It took a little longer this time showing the cylinders to Croc (who had calmed into a grieving mood like his puppy had just died) before he started to show signs of life again. "Stop ooman! That is the blue one we want!"

I glanced down to see a tiny vial tucked in a leatherish sleeve at the bottom. "THIS! It's bloody purple, not blue you blind boomerang!"

_Wait, where did boomerang come from? I'm not even Australian!_

But their accents are funny heeheeee.

It was sort of heart breaking, the look Croc gave me. His mandibles were slack and his eyes were twitching, one after the other like they were breakdancing. It was a look of pain, despair, shock and utter hopelessness. He face palmed so heavily, I could practically hear the 'I give up'.

By now, I had sobered up from whatever batch the pink stuff was (is this dude the scaly doppelganger of Walter White?) and had the ability to pour the PURPLE solution onto a patch a little away from the flowing rivers of brown vinegar I had created.

I jumped back with an excited squeal when the tiny drop instantly fizzed and ate away at the wood. Only one more drop was needed to completely work through the trunk.

"Hey! So _that's_ what was supposed to happen!"

Croc's withering glare would have most likely driven me to fearful insanity, if not for the basic fact that I had already inherited that trait.

The trunk that was on Croc was now only a few metres long and no longer stuck under a boulder, so I could roll it off of Croc with a satisfying groan from him. I only had to deal with the pang of guilt and rising bile from the splinters in his newly exposed limbs as side effects.

Deep gashes indicated that the tree's blow had not just been a dull thump. Luckily, he seemed capable of moving both arms, though the shoulder looked dodgy and he couldn't move his leg without a tragic moan. That side was also covered in thick cuts that leaked a mesmerising neon green blood that dazed me for a few seconds.

_Prettyyyyy…_

Dammit, I think there's some validity the 'Val the Vamp' hypothesis.

I snapped out of my thoughts when Croc gave out a horrible cry as he dragged himself into an upright position against a rock, but slipped back down again.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I'll just-" I ran and fished out the very first greyish liquid and crouch next to his bad side, "Where should I put this?"

My genuine worry must have gotten to him, because he fixed me with his gaze before groaning and saying, "On all open cuts, but must be cleaned first."

"Ok, I've got water in my car, I'll be right back!" I sprinted to my BMW, cursing as I tripped over the seats to the glove compartment and fished out two water bottles, smug that I was so paranoid about dehydration and all that. I rushed back to the clearing to find Croc still in the same position, his chest wheezing visibly in and out. I was messy with where I poured my water, but the first bottle did the job efficiently and he seemed to like the coldness. Curiously, I lay a hand on his heavy forehead and flinched at how hot he was. Croc gave an oddly curious look at me, before motioning to the other water bottle with a grunt and a nod.

Getting the message, I poured half down his throat while supporting his neck, grimacing with the giant weight of his head. Then I quickly unscrewed the grey solution and gingerly poured into onto all the deep gashes and cuts that littered his body. A few 'holy crap's followed when I saw Croc's scales slowly stitch themselves together as the liquid turned tacky and help scab over. In minutes, Croc wasn't even bleeding, and once he had ripped the vial out of my hand and drunk the last half of it, his breathing, while loud, became even.

"Ok, I'm going to take you to my home now. I'll help you walk to the car, it's only over there, and you'll be by the fire with some beef stew or something in no time, kay?" I could tell my nursey side was coming out.

Croc glared suspiciously, but it was weaker with the promise of food. "You will not be dishonourable? _You're_ kind usually are."

I visibly bristled at that. "Well, _I'm_ not the same as the Joe Blog down the street, you got that? I'm gonna make sure you get better, then kick you out like a donkey so you can high tail it back to alien central."

"That sounds…acceptable."

"I'm glad you think so, Crocadoodle."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

"Then what CAN I call you!"

Croc mulled this over for a long time before sighing and muttering something.

"I didn't catch that, can you…?"

"…Name is Dekna Guan."

"Deck naar…"

"_Dekna."_

"Dek…Dekna? Dekna!"

Woooo I can speak an alien dialect!

Dekna rolled his eyes as if he knew what I was thinking, though I decided to pretend that he was flattered I tried so hard to say his name. "Ok, that's a trendy name! Mine's Val. Well, technically its Valentina Montgomery, but I don't think you're gonna be able to say that."

Dekna huffed, his customary glare returning. "Am not like you, _kiande th'syra. _Inteligent. Can say perfectly."

I raised an eyebrow, "Sure thing, Dekna. Don't worry, I know it's not personal, I mean it's 8 syllables long. It can be tiring."

"Val." He rumbled.

"Yeaaaah?"

"Still considering feeding you own skin. Better to be quiet."

"…Thanks for the tip, Dekna."

Yeah, _real_ helpful.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Slap! _

"Don't touch that!" I yelped as I swatted my passenger's hand away from the AC. While it wasn't exactly freezing, I was perfectly fine with the temperature it was already, thank you very much.

Dekna Guan narrowed his eyes and growled at the impotent ooman. His own race's most basic one man ships for scouting were far more complex than the vehicle they were in at this moment, and far more spacious. In fact, ground vehicles were rarely used back on Yaut Prime, unless for transport of many goods or groups of Yautja.

How odiously lazy this species were. If he had been up to full strength, he could've made it back to this ooman's residence in no time.

I chewed on a curl of hair from the side of my face. I'd been trying to blow it out of my face for too long, and had claimed a (sort of) victory by attacking the damn stray with my saliva.

The ride back would only take a little under 10 minutes; there was already a tense silence, only permeated by the slight rumble of Dekna when he breathed, the answering hum of the engine and the whooshing of the wind sliding through a gap in my car side window. Every now and then Dekna would growl and tense his claws for no apparent reason then shoot a dark look at me.

I'm not gonna lie, it was starting to give me the creeps.

I can't get over how _weird _it is seeing him in my car; he's an _alien, _he belongs on the Death Star, not on leather seats that squeak every time he moves!

Though he still hasn't worked out why I keep on violently exhaling (snorting basically).

_Wow, so mature…_

You know it.

Get this; he even has to duck when he's in the car, and his errr…_derrière…_barely fits in the seat! And don't get me started on the gear box; I have to push Dekna's freaking gorilla arms out of the way constantly, 'cause he can't seem to comprehend that it's not an arm rest and is actually crucial in not crashing!

A very feminine growl/'ugh' sound escaped my mouth, gaining me a huff and condescending clicking from my new _best buddy. _

FINALLY the garage pulls into view, the manor seconds behind. I parked close to the front door, unbuckled (sadly Dekna knew what seatbelts were for, so he didn't buy the whole 'don't worry, they don't make a difference in a crash' ruse), and got out, closing the door behind me. I jogged over to Dekna's door, which he had already opened and was standing against with a pained expression.

"Ok dude, take it easy. If you give me your arm, I'll help you, 'kay?"

No response, helpful.

Taking that as consent, I raised his arm, silently cheering from the lack of resistance and looped it behind my neck. I nudged Dekna so that he would know that I was ready.

But in reality, I could never have been ready for how _bloody_ _heavy_ this guy was!

_What does he do, bench press cows?!_

And yet he couldn't lift a measly tree on his own. Reeeeeeal cute.

After a string of panted curses and 'accidental' tripping on Dekna's part (jackass), I told him to lean against a pillar as I fished out my keys and unlocked the door, which creaked open _slooooowly,_ like Tiny when he realises I'm taking him to the vet. It was as if it was telling me that Dekna here would be the beginning of the end, my downfall as it were.

I snorted when the image of the manor sprouting limbs and backing away from Dekna while using his 'fingers' to imitate the cross buzzed in my mind.

_I bet that it would have glasses made of the drainpipes. _

As routine dictated, I peeled off my shoes and nudged open the large closet I dubbed the 'shoe pantry', setting them down in their designated home rack. A pained moan took my attention. I turned around to see Dekna entering the house with the support of the door, which was causing more noise than the sentient creature it was supporting. But I couldn't make a snip at that, because horrors of horrors, the _mutherfucker was wearing muddy sandals inside MY HOUSE!_

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!" I screamed.

Dekna emitted a startled yelp, suddenly stiffening as if in danger. "I have done nothing ooman!"

"Take. Your. Shoes. _Off. _Or, I swear to whatever deity you fear or even exists, I will do so myself, and take the skin with it to make _another _pair of shoes, capish?"

He snarled menacingly, though did slip off his offending footwear and hand them to me cautiously. I gingerly held them away with my index finger and thumb pressed together, and hurriedly put them away before closing the shoe pantry.

Oh god, there was _so much mud. _

_Breath! In and out, in and out, in and out-_

I knew if I looked at the dirt on the floor now, I would literally break down, so after answering Dekna's snarl with my own, I helped him further inside. I'm not even joking, once the police found the bod(ies), the woods would be cornered off with yellow tape for all eternity, and people would tell tales about how Val the Vamp finally snapped and joined the dark side with Vader, Dracula and Sentinel Prime (moment of silence for Ironhide and the minnie twins).

On our way to the stairs, Dekna got a good eyeful of the main living room and such, and I admittedly puffed up with pride when I noticed the impressed gleam in his eye. It was like some one complimenting your car, or your baby in a beauty pageant. He seemed to eye the giant furs and animal heads with reverence, with glances at me as if sizing up whether I was butch enough to bring them down or not.

Lets just say I wasn't planning to correct him about only ever hunting clay pigeons, artificial targets and the occasional bunny with Lionel (to which he always had to fight to stop me from trying to bury).

And so finally, we reached the Lonely Mountain that was the ominous staircase, which made me wonder whether Dekna would be representing Smaug, or something far more sinister would that I still hadn't discovered in the Manor. We both exchanged a grimace, united in our (ha, _not_) eagerness for the task ahead.

Dekna squeezed my shoulders (not gently mind you) to gain my attention. When he had it, he trilled with thought and said, "Lead me there, ooma-"

"-_Val, _not ooman. Common Dekna, we talked about this!" I instantly shut up when he growled and dropped more of his weight on me, so that I gave a cry of pain for my poor back. "OK, OK! I'll take you to the banister, _jeeez!"_

He rumbled his approval, and I swear to god if we weren't in a position that he could easily throttle me, I would've gone ahead with one of the ideas I had for killing the dude in my head. The easiest being just pushing him down the three-storey staircase, though unfortunately even in his weakened state, he looked like he could walk away from that.

After another pointless argument, we decided to step left foot first (dammit!) and had to pause at every third step or so for Dekna to regain his composure and pretend that he hadn't been howling like he was giving birth or something. I made a mental note to flatten out the carpet of the landings, though thankfully, the most suitable (ie largest) bathroom wasn't on the very top floor.

_Fast forward a billion light years…_

Huzzah! The bathroom!

Dekna leaned against the door with a grunt and watering eyes as I peeled the door open, revealing a cream tiled room with mottled blue marble and copper detailing. An inconspicuous white door lead to where I knew was the toilet, while in the main section, a basin and oval mirror flung our dishevelled appearances back at us. I noted that Mcscaley was yet again checking out my _pad_, as it were, though his breathing had started to hitch with all the unwelcome exercise (forget pilates, the stairs are where the calorie burning is at). A large oval wall of glass stood by the window, which was covered in lacy white blinds, clear enough to see the metallic nozzles and showerhead that was attached to the wall. However, our destination was the giant stark white tub by the far left wall, shelves of toiletries and a bowl of lavender (note, need to replace wilting indoor plants) within good reach. It had clawed copper feet and taps, wide and lengthly enough to fit a couple of people comfortably in if the need should ever arrive.

'…_.'_

_Don't look at me like that!_

"Almost there big guy, lets set you in the tub and sort out ya' back." The gargled growl Dekna gave when he got in/fell in was truly pitiful. To see a battled hardened alien in kinky fishnets a frayed loincloth and Amazonian bangles squeal like a pig at the slaughterhouse was just depressing.

I pulled up the bottom of my drawstring trackies and pocketed my glittering pink socks that Dekna had been eying with derision earlier on.

_Pfffft, more like _envy_!_

You've got it, 'gurl friend'.

_You're no friend of mineeeee._

Oh, ok, I'll just go to this corner here…

_Just kiddin', love ya!_

*high fives other hand*

_I was jokin' again. Ha. _

Dekna raised an eyebrow (muscle) when I slapped my face, multiple times and muttered 'shut up!'. "Did not speak oom-_Val_. Head alright? Hit by tree as well?"

Awwwwww! He cares!

_Or he just wants to check on the mental stability of his self appointed Nurse Joy._

I shook my head. "Na, just the troubles of the universe, Bro."

His mandibles clicked together in confusion. "Am not your brother." Then a sneer only slightly diminished by his pain, "Too beautiful to be."

"Honey, if that's you've definition of beauty, I never wanna see what you deem ugly."

His triumphant expression immediately pulled into that scowl he seemed to so enjoy doing. Without another word, I rummaged through the cupboard under the basin for the first aid kit that sat in every bathroom that the bedrooms in the Manor had, 'cause for all of Grandpa Lionel's craziness, he also had first aid training. Us _humans _had a far more colourful bright red box, with many silver tools, rolls of bandages and bottled antiseptics and whatnot. After securing my prize, aka the medical tweezers, I launched myself at Dekna's back as he was now sitting in the middle of the bath looking like a disgruntled child outside the head teacher's office (and yes, still clothed if you perverts were wondering).

Disfigured splinters and muddied debris swelled between his scales, a sickening shade concocted from the mixture of the soil and his luminous blood.

_Oh god, that's horrible. _

Despite his bitchin', I couldn't help but view Dekna as some sort of wounded puppy. Times like this just really brought out my gushy maternal side.

Some bits I pulled out were the length of the tip of my index finger to the joint of flesh at my thumb, others too small to even penetrate Dekna's thick hide and just flowed with the fluids on his scales. Everything I could find was deposited on an old towel I didn't care about.

By the time I reached a point where his back had no gruesome protrusions, I decided that I wouldn't get very far without washing his back. All I gave him was a hum and a pat on the shoulder before turning on the tap of warm water and cupping some to drop on his back. He immediately hissed and snarled out some Yautja curses that I guessed from the ferocity I was better off not knowing.

I relaxed a little when his forest green scales began to show through. I cringed at the thought of having to disinfect the ripped flesh with some alcoholic swabs. I had a feeling that at this point, Dekna was wishing he had some more of his magic _PURPLE _potion.

Sorry, still a little touchy on that.

"Dekna…"

"What now? Finished?"

"No but…" I sighed with trepidation. "_OKsorrythisisgonnahurt!"_

"Wha-PAUUUUKK!" He roared, his back flexing away from the wipe. I chased him as he dodged and swerved this way and that, but of course even with my super fast vampire reflexes, he had alien awesomeness points over me.

"Oh for fuck's sake! You had pieces of wood that could've made passable _stakes_ in your back, and you're making a bigger fuss over some miserly _ethanol?!_ Grow the fuck up! You can even borrow my spare balls-"

It happened so fast, my head throbbed as the flow of blood in my brain swirled around. All I knew was being flat on my back in the bath, one leg painfully hanging out, with Dekna pinning me and blocking all light. His weight pressed down from his arms onto my shoulders, wrenching a strangled cry of pain from me. My eyes watered and panic choked me as his weaponised face loomed over me, scorching eyes scalding and terrifying.

"Know your place, ooman." Dekna rumbled slowly. It was meant to instigate cold fear, which it utterly did, but a far more insane rush of anger and wounded pride smashed through me in the form of a blood-curdling scream. My wrist blades shot up into the elbow joint where his scales were softer and creamy, which made them buckle as his eyes flared along with his mandibles with surprise. I used my free leg and his momentum to throw Dekna to the side and hook myself over the bath's ledge to roll out of it. Immediately I pounced back and handed on the balls of my feet on his chest, silently thanking my addiction of martial arts and xbox games. Both of my hands wrapped over Dekna's mandibles and I thrust them upwards, so that our faces were yet again close. His eyes were bulging with shock and pain from landing on his back again.

The adrenaline fed the boiling, psychotic anger I irrationally felt. My crackling voice whispered my threat. "Know _yours_, Yautja." I spat.

He glared death back and tried to flare his mandibles by instinct, but was stopped as my hands clamped down again. My wrist blades were dangerously close to a route to his brain from the soft pallet of his throat and we both knew it. Hell, he could _feel _it.

"I have offered _my_ help, _my_ home, _my_ safe haven, and _this is how you answer?_" He didn't say anything, both of us breathing harshly and refusing to break eye contact. "You will accept that, or get the fuck out of my life if you can't respect me, because I demand it as the _only_ payment for my hospitality. You spoke of dishonour before, didn't you? I'm guessing it means a lot to your people, so do everyone including you poor mother a favour and don't be dishonourable. Don't be a motherfucker, Dekna. Now, let me disinfect your back, unless you want your scales to have to be filed down."

And with that I threw his head back and jumped out to pull him up by the arm. I dragged my stool into position and got back to work, refusing to meet his burning eyes again. He didn't make a sound but for his harsh breathing when I was using the alcohol swaps on larger wounds, and only the stiffening of muscles when I jammed the needle into to stitch him. It felt like a century later that I finally told him to wash the rest of himself, with no response from Dekna, as I busied myself with cleaning away the old towel and the medical supplies, as well as the splashed water on the floor. The small pedal bin was almost full when I was done, and much to my embarrassment, I realised that Dekna had finished washing while I had been in the room.

_Dammit, I missed the live show, front seat and all!_

Shut up my floosy! Now is so _not_ the time!

Without another word or glance, I pulled out a fresh towel, dropped it on the stool and left the room. After passing two more doors, I ran all the way to the room Marcus occupied when he stayed and pulled out a black set of pyjamas, before rushing back.

Again at the last few doors I pressed into a walk and forced my breathing back to normal, my sudden nerve and willingness to die gone with my adrenaline. However I forced a blank expression and rolled my shoulders back, before meeting Dekna's inflamed gaze.

_Montgomery's laugh in the face of danger!_

Yeah well so did Simba, and look where at got him! Chased by hyenas, I tell you!

_Oh, let's ignore the tiny detail that he became KING!_

…Shut up.

We stood there for an eternity, as I wondered if my life was suddenly going to become a lot shorter.

But finally, Dekna growled out in a tone like grit, "What is it ooman?"

Aaaaaaand here came my pride with a snarl. His eyes narrowed and again we were bathed in silent tension. "What is it _Valentina_." He didn't even stumble over my full name, and I fought hard to regain my composure from the shock.

I swallowed painfully, before bringing up Marcus's clothes, thankful that at least Dekna had donned his loincloth again. "I have clothes for you to sleep in. Follow me." I pivoted and exited to walk next door to the adjourning guest room, one with rouge walls and almost black wooden furniture. A lone Spanish ship fought the waves in a gold frame above the four-poster bed, while dainty white china oddities danced across the dresser and cupboard. I dropped the folded black clothes on the centre of the bed and turned, thankful that Dekna had actually followed me. His expression was unreadable yet stony, which terrified me even more than his rage before.

"You can sleep here, and use that bathroom. I'll leave you now, goodnight." Long steps flung me towards the door, before a gut wrenching pull of foreboding and fear set in again. I turned back in the doorway, to see Dekna still in place but only flipped around so that he still faced me with that same cold look in his molten lava eyes. "If you find the urge to throttle me or skin me in my sleep or whatever, at least clean up the mess and make your bed, 'kay? My OCD is powerful enough to drive me to haunt you as a ghost." I said with complete seriousness.

At with that I left. The entire walk back to my room, I couldn't force myself to run like before, as if the action would be an admission that horrible monsters were following my every move. Safe to say, I bolted my bedroom door after Tiny hobbled in and collapsed with me on the bed, and the wrist blades never left my arms. It didn't really occur to me that it was still daytime, but oh welllll, it wasn't like I didn't have a stack of books locked in with me.

I checked the clock to see that it was already past 2pm. The events of the day were of course catalogued in the Spook Book, with a footnote promising that I wasn't lying. Then came the comfort of my books, texting Tilly about her wanting me to come with her to get her latest tattoo and braiding my hair again and again and again.

I also had a panic attack and the urge to eat pancakes, but I guess that's the Montgomery crazy gene talking again.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

There was a heavy rain that night, which coated the Montgomery residence in a tranquil illusion of normality. The heavy moss clung to the darkening stone walls, as the heavy sap smell from the neighbouring titan trees soaked into the Manor. By early morning, I had woken up in an utter state of bliss, rolling back and forth between consciousness and the residues of a satisfying dream. Slight irritation surfaced from the tackiness of sleepy dust, its removal resulting in a lack of protection from the light that peaked through the thick curtains.

Groan, streeeeetch, roll over.

Hair undone, tangled into the buttons of my pillow coverings; a good enough excuse to stay just a little longer in my cocoon. The density in one leg become uncomfortable eons later, I shifted again, both legs exposed at the knees while Tiny's tail wrapped in between my toes.

This had to be the closest one could get to heaven on earth. The feeling of melting while still remaining in the exact same position rolled over me in sensory pulses of warmth.

Of course, the greatest (and also tyrannous) part about life is its impermanence.

The self-inflicted buzz of '_you're forgetting something, dimwit!' _throbbed in my brain. Various hazes of emotions wafted back to me, like trying to remember a distant smell, or what you were about to say before some inconsiderate jackass spoke before you in a conversation.

Why I actually complied with this and got up even though there was no irritating human alarm clock prowling around (_Mother!) _is a mystery that frankly is a little too lame to dwell on.

Are you sure? Well, be my guest, crazy stalkers.

_Nice to know someone cares. _

And then like in all internal mutterings about the awakening of the heroine after a life-changing event, _it all came back to me. _

I rarely drink, unlike dear Marcus, who has a fascination with concocting his own rainbow big city version of moonshine whenever one of his bar friends foolishly lets him behind the counter. While we both share a fascination with _pretty _drinks, plastic umbrellas, neon colours and all, I've never been one to rely on alcohol as a necessity. In all honesty, even when I visit Billy's Bar in NYC, it's rare that I actually order anything other than a coke (sometimes, if I'm good and the t shirt is tight enough, they give me extra lemon slices).

Note, I _LOVE_ lemons.

_Tangtastic! _

But back to intoxicants that slowly kill us after a few hours of being bipolar and reckless.

Remembering said life-changing events, especially when they're a mix of horror and sheer excitement, is very similar to waking from a hangover.

Not that I've had that _delightful _experience; it just so happens that Marcus and Tilly both have the _adorable _habit of getting so inebriated they'd screw George Bush (and like it- shudder) and then recounting their sufferings and humiliation the next day.

I'm not kidding; both (on separate occasions) seem to have included on their to do list when-you-wake-up-with-an-atom-splitting-hangover, to call their sober rock Val and tell me how they hate their bodies for hurting so much, how they'll never drink that much again, how horrible I am for not making more of an effort to change their ways, and the events (that they can remember) and evidence that they are left with that made it such an AWESOME NIGHT WOOOOO!

_Yeaaaaaah. _

As you can see, I lack the capacity to emote anything above the minimum amount of sympathy for them.

So you can imagine that I was a little pissed off that even after all my sensibility to never have a terrible hangover, I'd ended up with a _mental _hangover of sorts.

Makes sense that the crazy girl gets that instead, huh?

First came the thwack of _'ohshitohshitohshit-how-could-I-be-so-stupid' _and _'why-lord-does-my-embarressment-hurt-so-much-kill-me-now-before-the-alien-does-it-in-a-much-longer-way'. _

Then came the faze of me rolling around the floor while clawing at my brain to forget all the stupid things I'd done while Tiny watched like Scar surveying the Pride lands.

Due to a lack of any actual chemical depressants to slow my movements, I reasoned with myself that I needed to shower. Showers were beautiful things.

Like with cleaning, they were surprisingly ingenious ways of relieving stress. Maybe I'd wash my hair as well.

Yeah, sounds like a great idea; me, soapy studs, a hot spray of water and a rubber ducky.

Pffffffttt, I'm not _'avoiding' _anyone.

_Especially not a certain giant green bimodal crocodile at the end of the corridor. _

Exactly!

'…'

Oh right, sarcasm. I _knew _it was weird that I agreed with myself.

_I'm just so blessed to share a conscious with __**you. **_

A few minutes after simply standing under the hammering of the burning water spray, I opened my eyes, wandering why my skin felt so squishy, to find that I was still in my batman pyjamas.

Fuck _you,_ universe.

I peeled off the offending outerwear, gaining a minute victory when throwing them into the pearly sink, however my wrist blades remained after deliberation. I did _not _want to ruin my chances of survival in an Anthony Hitchcock moment, thank you very much. I certainly wouldn't put it past Dekna, especially after that little of battle for dominance we had yesterday.

Madness you say?

_Rise, oh wise one. _

Sure thing, Yoda.

As I harshly massaged my scalp, the power of the almighty shower worked its magic and a smile broke out with a sigh that banished all tension from my body. Even if Dekna was about to jump at me to swashbuckler me into sushi (note the irony as _he's _the one whose all scaly and fishy-ish), I had the satisfaction of getting in the last word with him _AND _surviving the entire night.

I vaguely noted that the lather of bubbles accumulating in my hair and drizzling down my body in rivers was a faint shade of cherry, a sign that despite a lack of peaking brown roots, I'd have to re-dye me hair to keep up the same vibrancy. That meant a trip to civilisation for a shopping trip that would rival any of the black Friday hoarder addicts. It also was an excuse to see Tilly, Ellie, Kev, Alex, Marcus, hell, maybe I could sneak in a visit to see the rentals as well! Anxiety and a far too real sense of sorrow rested over me as reality blinded me again in the form of stinging soap bubbles.

I had a freaking _alien_ at the Manor, who would likely not leave until he fully recovered, and even then, my chances of not being scalped alive were slim, with my big mouth. Knowing my luck, he wouldn't fall into any of the trap doors. Hell, I didn't even know why he was here, or he even had a way of getting back to…whatever planet the Yautja usually habituated on.

Denial still glazed over my rationality. As I dried myself off and wrapped my hair in the towel, I mused to myself that I hadn't fully realised the severity of the danger I was in. Even inviting a _human_ stranger to stay the night was idiotic at best. The nicest of people could turn out to be psychopathic killers; I had had the luck of mine at least looking like one, what with all the weapons, threats, roaring…

Need I go on about my stupidity?

I manuvered myself to sit on the floor, naked and cloaked in slick wet hair, armed with a variety of combs that would likely break and a hairdryer. I had resolved to not take the wrist blades off until a few thousands miles and hours were between my guest and I, so I had to put up with the ache in my arms of having to hold my hair up while fighting the weight of the bastards.

Fast forward the time it takes for a sun to be born and burn out, my hair was swimming around me in the usual frenzy of gory rouge curls. Thankfully I still remembered that it wasn't just me and Tiny (who had as usual managed to get out of the room some how without me opening the door to let him out) in the Manor anymore, so I was fully clothed.

Paranoia had taken a hand in dressing me this morning. Bright green sweatpants with neon yellow detailing hung on my hips, ripped at the ends where I had previously cut then halfway up my thigh once in the delirious fit that the summer heat can do to one. On the off chance that I would have to run for my life, another sports bra had been chosen, as well as a lack of socks, so as to not slip and fall to my death on the stairs when doing said running away. A skin tight, long sleeved top covered my torso in all its black and Beegees glory, the pop art of a bloody 'staying alive' logo its main selling point.

It took a little more internal arguing with myself, but eventually, I was walking down the dim corridor, muscles taught and ready for anything. I fought the urge to whimper when on arriving at Dekna's room, the door was agar, revealing it in all its emptiness. The black pyjamas were on the chair, neat but not folded. The bed was made with the skill of a rushing teenager, but quite frankly, I was surprised that his effort was even _noticeable_. Despite myself, I started to relax at the thought of him being a gracious houseguest.

'BANG!'

_Yeah, that didn't last long. _

I sighed. That sounded like downstairs, which meant he was probably in the process of upturning the furniture. I shuddered at the mental image of Dekna 'marking his territory' against my beloved fireplace bannisters.

Considering the squeaking of the stairs, I was surprised that Dekna didn't notice me when I first entered the kitchen, but he certainly noticed my scream of angst and horror. My hands clamped over my mouth and I started to shake with OCD induced rage at the sight before me.

Lets play a _game. _Now, who in the audience can guess who's in the middle of my kitchen, covered in the pasta bolognaise I had saved in the fridge, cracked egg shells, sauces, spices, the _mutherfucking_ _lot_ splattered everywhere?

_Oooh, oooh I know! Pick me pick me!_

Yes, you! What is _your _answer excitable little child dressed as Tintin?!

_Hmmmm….is it….Tiny?_

Striiiiikkkkkkeeeee one!

_Oh wait, I know…ummmm…_

Remember audience member; you _can _call a friend if the answer eludes you!

_No, I got this…ok, I've got to go withhhh…Dekna!_

Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

I cleared my throat after gathering the last of my self-control. "Dekna."

Like a child caught by his mother, Dekna's head swivelled around, eyes wide and one hand still stuck in a jam jar that once held marmalade. Sheepishly, he replied "Ahh…good sleep, _sei __**[yes]**__?" _

I made my way slowly towards him, stepping over the broken shards of pottery and sticky spills. When I arrived at Dekna, I stood before him, head straining to meet his resin like eyes and tried to fight away the red seeping into my vision.

_Keep cool, Val, you're better than this!_

I reached around Dekna to get the glass plate on the once green counter (now a dusty desert yellow from the turmeric). It held the slippery remains of a slab of butter, which was entombed by some greasy cling film. I gingerly handled a pinch of the butter and rubbed it around the circumference of the jam jar as Dekna hesitantly watched what I was doing.

"Valentina…_l'ulij-bpe __**[mad, upset]**__?"_

No way am I giving him the benefit of an '_its_ _fine'_!

_Let him wallow in doubt!_

Instead of acknowledging him, I continued to rub the butter until one of my fingers could slip into the jar opening along with Dekna's trapped hand. Then with the both of my hands I pulled hard, the jar slipping off in a corkscrew motion with a loud pop.

The jar was immediately rinsed and placed in the thankfully empty dishwasher. I turned back to Dekna, who was rubbing his neck with an apologetic face. I growled at him and said in the most menacing voice I could muster. "You are going to help clean up this mess, and then you're going to tell me how long you have to stay, because if you're well enough to destroy my kitchen, then I'm pretty fucking certain that you can go home, capish?"

"…_Sei, _will make up for actions." He agreed vigorously.

I nodded my approval.

It took over half an hour to dust, sweep, vacuum and mop the floor, not to mention gather up all the broken pottery and account for the losses. While I had finally calmed down, it hadn't escaped my notice that Dekna was actually being, dare I say it…_civil. _

He was actually pretty skilled and meticulous with the dusting, though sent a mildly dirty look my way when I couldn't help but giggle at his dislike of the vacuum. It seemed that the loud whining of the machine was abhorred by both Tiny _and _Dekna now, probably to do with their more… _animalistic _nature, which I'm guessing means that their ears are more sensitive.

And so the kitchen returned to a state of normality, minus the giant alien leaning against the counter and the stressed out human throwing away the last destroyed cereal box.

"Sooooo…"

-enter grunt here-

"Do you want to tell me _why _you were decimating my kitchen?"

Dekna's stiffened at the question. He surveyed me with his frowning expression, before the clicking of his lower mandibles increased and he deigned me with an answer.

"…Hungry."

"Oh, ok." I jolted up and opened the fridge door, scanning what was left within it. "What type of diet can you have?"

"_Amedha, _meat."

I looked at him with disbelief, a smile twitching on my lips. "Meat, huh? Just meat?" He huffed, crossed his arms and nodded at me curtly. "That's…_manly. _Are you sure you won't get a heart attack or something?"

He snorted as if I had just asked him if he skipped rope. "Yautja have protein based diet. Eat fruit for flavour, but meat _strengthens_."

I looked pointedly at his bare eight pack chest, feeling a little embarrassed. "Huh…'kay then."

I shifted through various packages around the shelves. "I've got smoked salmon…or some bacon? That's from this animal called a pig, it's fat, pink and moves on four legs." He didn't really _need _to know that, but you never know when rise of the planet of pigs would occur.

Dekna moved behind me and peered over my shoulder. He wrinkled his nose at the salmon, but once he caught sight of the bacon he snatched the entirely unopened pack and started feeding himself with his fingers, his mandibles clenching and reeling in the strips quickly.

_That's nastyyyyyyyyy!_

"Alrighty…." I sighed yet again, put back the salmon and closed the fridge after retrieving a half empty pot of blue berry yogurt, which was moving quickly towards its expiration date. After setting that down on the counter, I hastily grabbed a plate that had some how survived Dekna's wrath and thrust it into his chest. "Dekna, for the love of Christ, please sit down and _use a plate_!"

Another shock when Dekna _pouted _and _listened _to me, dropping the food on the plate and taking over the white wooden chair in the corner of the kitchen, his legs unable to fit under the small matching two seater table.

I shook my head, deciding that maybe if I got some food into me, reason may return to the world.

The blue berry yogurt ran down my tongue like igneous bliss as I sat on the counter top, my back to the open window. Despite Dekna's sudden mood change, I was still wary of the aftershocks of his male pms.

As he licked the plate clean with both hands clutching either side of the plate, I finally regained my courage. "Dekna?" he swivelled his head and waited for me to continue, "I don't really know how to put this but umm…why haven't you, you know…what I mean to say is…"

He huffed with a dramatic eye roll, causing his dreadlocks to sway in a mimicking motion. "Spit it out, oom-_Val."_

"Why are you being all _nice_? I mean, just yesterday, you were all about skinning me. I'm just wondering, why the sudden attitude 180?"

Dekna's huge form straightened from out of the chair and made his way to stand before me, leaving the plate on the table. I stiffened from the suddenly close proximity, but apart from his naturally deadly aura, he didn't seem to want to appear threatening. Dekna grunted a little, staring straight at me for a few uncomfortable seconds before answering. "Valentina…not what was expected. Are honourable. Offered home, help. Also fearless, unlike other puny oomans." He chuckled at my bewildered expression, "Not many would face Yautja warrior like you did. Think, you either brave or very stupid, _sei?" _

"So…let me get this straight…" I raised both eyebrows to show my confused exasperation. "You don't want to hurt me anymore because I proved that I wasn't going to back down from you? Do you really think humans are so weak? I mean, I know you're all Mr muscle but…oh would you stop _preening_ and answer me!?"

Dekna's mandibles were stretched open, his inner mouth and row of teeth exposed in what was his version of a mischievous grin. "Have hunted ooman before; slow, always crying and sneaky, never honourable enough to fight like worthy prey. Have not met ooman like you before."

I snorted. "Gee, I'm _thrilled_. But just cause we're the weaker species, doesn't mean we're useless; I mean, sure I can _fight_, but you've got the dudes in Ivy league colleges who are total brain boxes!"

He rolled his eyes disbelievingly. "Never met one of these ooman. Sure they exist?"

"Darlin' you've probably met them, but killed them before you could check."

He paused for a moment, mandibles crossing together in childish thought, before shrugging and grinning again at my _"_Oh for the love of God!".

After a solid few minutes of glaring, Dekna became more serious again. "So, I've got to ask, what were you doing in my woods?"

"You own all this land?!" His eyebrow muscles shot up in surprise.

"Yep, I inherited it from my Grandfather. I don't know if you saw, but his portrait is the large one in the living room, by the civil war pistols."

He nodded his understanding and continued. "Came to Earth to hunt oomans, in your continent of South America. Ran in to some bad bloods who-"

"-Wow wait, what are bad bloods? Is that like a disease?"

A quick snarl shut me up quickly. "Impatient ooman! Let me finish!" Dekna flicked the middle of my forehead, _painfully _I can tell you now! "Bad bloods are dishonourable, shunned from Yautja society for their crimes. Our arbitrators hunt them down and bring justice."

"So like our police, gotcha'."

Dekna gave me a 'do I care' expression, before continuing again with an angry growl and flared his dreads, giving me the feeling that he really didn't like bad bloods. "Captured me after tricking me in dishonourable fight. If not for sedative, I would have their skulls to drink _c'nlip __**[very strong alcoholic beverage]**_out of. Was kept on their ship for weeks, stripped of all weapons. Finally, escaped and landed back on Earth in an escape pod. Tried to track bad bloods, but the _paukers __**[fuckers] **_ran."

By the end of his explanation, Dekna was practically vibrating with anger, his arms tensed to his fists and eyes molten with anger. While I was happy that it wasn't directed at _me, _I was still sitting fairly close to where he stood, the proximity making me fairly wary. With a nervous chuckle, I slid off the counter and lightly patted his arm in a sort of '_there, there' _gesture. "They sound like shitholes, they really do. While I haven't met them, you look like you could probably whoop their asses."

Dekna clicked his mandibles in a preening fashion, all anger evaporated as his ego swelled. "'_Probably'_?" he prodded me in the ribs as I rolled my eyes and started to clear away my finished breakfast.

"Alright hotshot, put a leash on that ego, will ya'?"

He huffed and started smirking again. "Cannot deny the true, Val. I am great hunter. Strong. Unbeatable."

"Uh huh…"

"_No one _killed as many _kiande amedha _as I in my _chiva. _Am superior. The desire of all females."

I gaped at him, shocked. Where's Mr cocky come from?!

_The chicken coop? _

-enter internal groaning and face palming-

I couldn't help it; I doubled over, giggling loudly. As my eyes welled up, I was forced into another bout of laughter by Dekna's indignant protests and huffing. I don't think that was the reaction me wanted.

"HAHAHHA, oh god, you didn't just-"

"Shut up ooman! I speak the truth!" 

"AHHHHH I can't, can't breath this is too funnyyyyy-"

And so my hysterical fit ended as I collapsed on my usual spot in the living room, the large single leather armchair that my friends had dubbed 'the godfather' or 'the don'. Dekna finally quietened me down with a couple of his usual glaring and threatening, and soon was seated opposite me on the matching sofa, a large pillow placed between his crossed legs after my blushing insistence and his answering leer.

After we had regained my composure, I hummed in thought as I watched Dekna's eyes scan the room in a more thorough examination. He, like last time, seemed the most interested in the old antique weapons and hunting trophies, though did ask me to confirm which portrait was Grandpa Lionel's.

"Dekna, there's something that I still am curious about; how did you end up under that tree?"

Said alien froze, and I swear to god, upon his cheeks, a darker flush grew. His mandibles clasped together as he struggled with an answer, and his dreads were tense and raised slightly at the roots in his agitation. Eventually, after I repeated my question, he exhaled and begrudgingly answered me.

"Bad bloods laid trap in forest, weakened the trunk of the tree. Followed them, when in clearing, tree was brought down. Left to starve. You came, destroyed medikit-"

"-And I saved your life yeah yeah yeah, I remember." I gave him my best Virgin Mary smile. "Aren't I an angel?"

He snorted, but didn't reply. "I'll take your silence as a yes…" vaguely I wondered if he would have killed me if I had found him when he wasn't pinned by that tree.

_Most likely. _

"How are you feeling? I mean, you _were_ close to dying before I gave you your magical medicine."

I felt embarrassed at how surprised he looked that I asked, but he answered never the less. "Wounds healing well. Breathing regular, ribs will heal too in time. Only sore."

I nodded my approval. "That's good to hear, I'll change the bandages later. Are you cold? I mean, with your errr…_loincloth." _

Dekna trilled curiously at me. "Yautja home world very hot. Do not bother to cover up. Inside your home is warm anyway. Outside…" He grimaced.

I laughed at his scrunched up expression. "Got it. I don't think any of Marcus' other clothes will fit you, those pyjamas I gave you were a couple of sizes bigger because he likes really loose clothes when he sleeps."

Dekna shook his head. "Black coverings did not fit. Slept bare, Yautja always do."

My eyes bugged open before I could stop them, and I cursed that Dekna's smug expression meant that he noticed. "I didn't need to know that much, Dekna." I scolded, still red.

"May prove useful to know."

My mouth dropped open at that, before I shook my head in exasperation. "You're impossible."

"Many say that in my presence."

"_Not _a compliment, buddy."

All he did was throw that lecherous grin my way. Holy cow, how could I have predicted how much of a floosy ass he is?!

_The way of the world my friend. _

"So… what now?" at his light querying expression, I elaborated. "I guess, you're welcome to stay as long as you want. It does get a little lonely here, and I've never met an alien before, it's pretty awesome."

"Need to communicate with clan ship for pick up, but _dah'kte __**[wrist blades/wrist console]**_is broken." He growled, "Need to fix, will take time and resources, tools."

I nodded in agreement, wondering what the hell a 'dah'kte' was. "No problem. I can buy what you need. I've got to warn you, I get really stressed if everything isn't neat, so don't think you can redecorate like you did in my kitchen, 'kay? Till you leave, you can stay in the room you were in last night, provided you don't try and slaughter me _again." _I said pointedly.

Dekna rolled his eyes "Only _once_."

"That's all it takes, hotshot."

"Wasn't _trying _to kill, merely…_dominate_."

If I had been drinking something, I would've spat it all out. "DOMINATE?! What, wait- _WHY_?!"

"You talked back, had to know your place." He said bluntly.

I raised a cunning eyebrow and smirked after my initial surprise. "Didn't really work out for you, did it?"

His glare was certainly noted worthy. "…No…" then Dekna's face lightened as he pondered. "Formidable opponent, underestimated you, Val. Who knew one so tiny…"

There's the jerk I know.

"Hey! I'm considered tall for a woman, King Kong!"

And so we agreed to stay in each other's company in relative harmony until Dekna could contact his Starfleet commander, or whatever. Despite how idiotic it was to invite said hostile alien to board with me even longer, I was kind of excited, you know? I woke up this morning, ready to fight for my life, only to discover that Dekna's not so bad! I mean, who knew me had a sense of humour?!

Sure, a perverted, _egocentric_ humour, but the dude can crack a joke and all.

Not to mention he'll be brilliant if we ever have a burglar.

**I present to you, another chapter! Enjoy! **

**I had quite a funny time working through this chapter, even if it did take a little longer than usual. **

**Tell me what you liked about this chapter, and your thoughts about all that occurred **

**On a side note, if any of you are transformers fans, I've just posted my first chapter of Alien By Perspective. My (OC) protagonist has a history in the world of alien vs predator, however I've only posted it under Transformers, rather than a cross over as it only really explains her origins. **

**Thank you for your patience and continued support, **

**Renzin xo**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Dekna, I know I said I would buy everything you need to fix your console thingy, but I don't think humans have even _made _some of this stuff." I sighed with an apologetic grin at the over grown lizard in my garage. "I mean, take this; I don't think I can find a nucleic high photon warper in Homebase."

Dekna huffed like a pouting child and took to kicking around the tools strewn across the concrete floor. "You oomans are more primitive than I thought. Not _hard _to understand, why you have not invented yet?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Who, me personally? I kinda already _have_ a job, and besides, DIY is more my thing, not circuit boards and the time-space continuum."

He snorted in an 'I thought as much' manner, before catching my attention again as I walked to my BMW. "Valentina!" he cried.

I whipped around, suddenly alert by his serious call. "What's wrong big guy?"

Dekna stepped a little forward, his crystalline glare grating into mine. And then, as time started to slow down, he trilled slowly before immediately grinning goofily. "You will buy more food?"

_Rejectionnnnnnnn! Disgraceeeeeee!_

If my life were a cartoon, this would be the shot where I freeze, sweat drop with 'X' eyes and crack into pieces.

Instead, in the wonderful reality that I really was in, I just shook my head and walked away. Just like with Tiny, I was only worthy as a source of food.

_Used more than a cheap street hooker!_

The trip to the nearest town was 45 minutes away, only 10 of those minutes being alongside any other cars. Axe Town used to be the local settlement for all the civil war soldier's haunts, such as the local brewery and inn. However now, while all the houses still held an aged look about them, they were accompanied by the local school, park, superstores and concrete roads. While out of the way, it was by no means close to Hicksville. I drove through to a cheap parking lot in the centre of town, happy that there were plenty of easy spots to park in. After going to the local electronics store and freaking them out with the amount of techno shizzle that I bought, I made my way into the local mall, making sure to avoid the sale shops and pimpled teens and their horrendous snap backs.

Honestly, what happened to buying a cap because you supported the team, and not the angle between the cap and base of your hat?

Safe to say, I wasn't successful clothes wise when it came to saving money. Soon, a rouge velvet blazer and matching heels were in my possession, though I could easily say they made me look like a goddamn sexy accountant.

Food shopping, as always, was a marathon and a half; three trips back and forth from the car, and I finally had everything fitted into the spacious boot. The interactions with the check out lady was as genial as ever.

"_Hey Ms M, how's ya' trees?"_

"_Yes, my residents is in good shape, thank you Jeanie. How's the beauty course at the college faring for you?"_

_*Smack of chewing gum* "S'all good Ms M. We just started our trimmin' unit; say, ya' wouldn' wan' a trim, would'ja Ms M? S'not like you'll miss a little on the ends, and really could do with the practice!"_

"_Really…well, to be honest with you Jeanie, I'd love to help you, but I can't get a hair cut for…religious reasons, yeah. Sorry, and all."_

"_Aww, s'ok Ms M. Pity, ah always thought ya' would look nice with a pixie cut! Here's ya change, have an awesome day!"_

"_I will, Jeanie, you too."_

Oh god, awkward conversations like that make me want to stab people in the eye with a mascara wand covered in onions and sunscreen.

_Booooom we went there!_

As I pushed the last plastic bag into the trunk, I bristled and ran all my long hair over my shoulders. It was in its usual curly, side-parted style, slightly dimmer in its colour, signalling the need to re dye it.

_It's not _that _long, is it? _

I snarled at myself for listening to Jeanie Eustace, currently retaking her grade for the 2nd time and sporting pin straight ginger hair with several hoop earrings and a stud on the dimple of her cheek. I slammed the hood down and with a sweep of my hair, turned to walk to the driver's door.

My scream after pulling at the caught hair under the hood caused a little boy carrying bottles of milk for his mother on the other side of the car park to drop them and start crying.

The drive back was in silence, no radio, stalking out loud to myself, contacting spirit guides, nothing, nada. When I pulled into the garage, Dekna wasn't there, so I assumed he must have gone into the manor again. I had given him a key to both buildings, which he had attached to the belt of his loincloth like an Asian schoolgirl's bag adorned with her Moshi monster key rings. Hefting every single bag into the kitchen, then pulling the last of the clothes shopping bags to my room reminded me that for the past 3 days that Dekna had been here, I had only gone on my morning run, and used the presence of a 'guest' to excuse not doing my usual workout. My muscles were now lethargically strung, and I mentally winced at the idea of the ache that they would have once I picked up my full routine again. All of Dekna's prezzies were left on the metal workbench; all his equipment we had found in the forest was there, and his wrist console had been taken apart, only the darkened, curved screen recognisable.

Hunger gripped my stomach like one of those hand-exercising grips, so I made my way back into the house, slipping off my trainers and putting them in the shoe pantry, before making my way through the house and to the kitchen. I paused by the open door of the library as the familiar _'shink!' _of Dekna's unsheathed wrist blades hit me. Slowly, I ducked my head and shoulders back through the door, as I gripped its frame. "Dekna…?"

A sudden blur of movement, and Dekna was now sitting in an armchair, a thickly bound book that I recognised as I came closer as Swallows and Amazons. I thought I had heard Tiny's raspy hissing as well, and hadn't Dekna been standing by the open window, with his blade hand raised…?

Dekna innocently looked up at me as I walked in front of him as he sat with one leg crossed over the other, much like how Dad did. If Dekna had glasses to be perched on his nose, I would've called for a line up. "Val. Journey fruitful?"

I blinked a little and shook my head. "Yeah, it was good thanks. Your stuff's in the garage, and I'm just about to start dinner. Curry sound good?"

He carefully studied the page number, before humming thoughtfully and closing it and placing it on the side table next to him. In an utter Frasier moment, he clasped his hands around his knee and tilted his head with a frown. "Curry…" he rumbled with apprehension. In his stay here, I'd been trying to introduce Dekna to as much cultural stuff as possible, as well as different types of food on his little holiday. So far, we'd discovered that he hated cereal (_freak), _oranges, Mexican and French food. The only sure fire thing he seemed to like was meat; everything else had been pushed to the side with his eating utensils that I had insisted he eat. Before that, he been doing in a rather nifty impression of a conveyer belt as his mandibles worked to feed the food into his mouth.

"Yeah, it's this southern Asian dish that's known for usually being spicy, covered in sauces and such. Don't worry, they'll be chicken."

Dekna visibly relaxed from his tensed position, before gazing back at the book, as if willing he to go away again. I rolled my eyes and walked away.

An hour later, Dekna looked up from his book, just as Titty seized the _Amazon. _A thick blend of spices assaulted his olfactory senses, and he closed his eyes, mandibles slackening to concentrate on it. In a daze, he abandoned the novel and zombied his way to the source of the smell.

In the kitchen, various bowls of vegetables lay around the hob as Valentina worked, a lady on a mission. To be quite honest, she was pissed off that Dekna hadn't taken to earth food yet; just because Yautja were the 'superior' race, did that really mean they had better food?! The volcanic shade of the curry coated the cooking chicken in the pot. The coriander soon made its way in, as well as the last of the rice wine vinegar. A ping from the oven below her waist alerted Valentina to the finished naan bread; with her left still stirring the main dish, her right ventured down to switch off the oven and grab a cloth, which she enveloped over her hand so that the tray of bread could be set onto the counter. Her eyes never left the bubbling mixture, only closing briefly as she tasted a little of it.

_Perfect!_

Valentina had spent her summer holidays in Sri Lanka in her gap year with Tilly and Kev, and had become obsessed with the culture. Despite the fact that she left her window in her hotel room open one day and a bunch of monkey had come in and trashed the place with all the complimentary fruit, she had managed to go over there 3 more times, and was planning to stop by there again when she finally planned her 'silk road' pilgrimage. She wasn't particularly sure _why _she was so obsessed, but since she now was good friends with a pen pal family she stayed with the past two times, she was picking up on the main language, Singhalese, and was an apparent natural cooking their food. She blamed her great grandmother; according to Grandpa Lionel, she had had a thing for Asian dudes, so it was probably in her blood.

Dekna watched his odd ooman friend lick the fleshy opening that she called 'lips' with her short tongue, before muttering "Needs more lemon grass!" and leaping towards a small labelled jar. He watched wide eyed as she moved around the room like a mad scientist, a little dizzy from his overworking senses and the cloud of turmeric tainted musk that was wafting through the window. Another ping next to him made him jump, and Valentina dashed in his direction to press a button on what he had learnt to be the rice cooker next to him. A chime of automated bells alerted the acknowledgement of whatever action she had demanded of it.

Dekna considered backing away before Valentina fully noticed his presence, as her misty blue eyes swooped over him with no indication that she noticed him. However the rich aroma of the 'curry' beckoned him to come closer. The punch of flavours permeated the air, and he trilled in delight when he noticed that the dark red colour of the mixture reminded him of the desert areas of his homeland. Without thinking, once the scent of succulent chicken came to his attention, he grabbed the spoon and dipped it in, opening his mandibles and inner mouth wide as his tongue darted out and…

"AIIEEEEEEEEE NO NO NO!" the fierce war cry of the female defending her territory was the only warning Dekna got before the spoon was wrenched out of his grip and he was dealt a blow with it straight onto the crest of his forehead. He yelped and covered his head as more blows found him, roaring as he raced from the kitchen. Vaguely, he heard Valentina screaming at him "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH THE FOOD WHEN IT ISN'T READY! GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN _NOW_! HAVE YOU EVEN WASHED UP FOR THIS EVENING!?"

Dekna paused by the door with a furrowed brow. "Washed in morning. Am sufficiently clean, Val…" His deep voice ebbed away as own eyes widened at Val's demonic expression. He flew out of the kitchen as if a hoard of Xenomorphs were on his tail. "_C'JIT C'JIT C'JIT! H'CHAK, VAL! KHA'BJ-TE OOMAN_!? _**[SHIT SHIT SHIT! HAVE MERCY, VAL! RABID/MANIAC/RECKLESS OOMAN!?]**_"

"YOU FILTHY CROCODILE, COME BACK HERE SO I CAN SKIN YOU AND COOK YOU AS A PIE!"

A faint intake of breath reached Dekna's sharp hearing, the only warning he had as he dived behind the large tree trunk in the centre of the living room. Silence reigned as he peaked out to look at the santoku knife, only a little of its blade visible from its new ligneous hilt. If he had stayed running at the same angle, it would have gone right through his stomach. He knew his only chance was to escape and come back to beg forgiveness when Valentina was in her normal childish, joyful mood, so as he heard her war cry ring out again, he used his inhuman speed to leap up onto the platform of the next floor, swinging himself up into a crouched position on the other side of the banister. He got up and dived out of sight to seek sanctuary in his room, just as a smaller vegetable knife found the mouth of the hung up boar that lived in the corridor Dekna was running through.

A little while later, Dekna finished sharpening the blade of his wrist gauntlets, tapering them to a point sharp enough to cut paper. The light from outside was negligent, the sky that he could see from his window now a deep purple grappling with runt orange tones. Despite this planet being infested with the insect oomans and being too cold for a Yautja's liking, Dekna had rather enjoyed his stay in his comrade's residence. It was endless in size, and held many texts and artefacts that reminded him that oomans could occasionally do something right. Of course, they were nothing compared to the treasures and accomplishments of the Yautja. However, Valentina's sire's sire, known as Lionel Montgomery, seemed to be like the current owner of the Manor. Both were unusually honourable for oomans from what Dekna had gathered from Valentina, and shared the same odd mannerisms. The various trap doors and hidden passageways that Valentina had pointed out for him was mark of the man's cunning. Since his arrival, he had already found two more hidden areas that Valentina had recorded down.

And despite the fact that the female ooman he now lived with was shorter, lighter and weaker compared to even a female Yautja, Dekna knew that she was a capable warrior; her skills with the knifes earlier were a testament to her skills, as well as her religious training she did every day and the collection of weapons in her basement. While it was unfortunate that Dekna couldn't hunt her as worthy prey because it would be dishonourable to hunt one that had helped him like she had, he was still looking forward to sparring with her, when he got around to asking. There was little doubt that she would not beat him, but he was curious of the extent of her skill.

Warily, he made his way down stairs, mouth watering as the smells of dinner grew stronger. However in the kitchen neither Valentina nor his prize could be found; the place was now spotless, the windows closed and the surface damp from being freshly wiped. Just as he was about to continue his search, a familiar, musical voice called "Dekna? Dinner's in the dinning room!"

He clicked his mandibles in anticipation rapidly, jogging lightly to his destination. The central dining table was set for two, the end seat and the seat to the left of it set, with various bowls and cutlery around it. A large jug of water with ice cubes was set next to the places, as well as a small vase of wild flowers. He was now used to the traditional set up of Valentina serving food, and recognised the flowers as the blue kind that was common in these woods. Valentina was straightening the noir blue table cloth, dressed in mint green pyjamas that had a fluffy collar and cuffs. An extremely obese yellow bear with a red shirt sat on her breast pocket, while her hair was braided down her back in the same fashion she always had in the evening. When she noticed his arrival, she briskly went over and tugged at his wrists to inspect his palms. After peering at his face as when, she nodded in approval of the signs of him having taken a shower, and lead him over to take him seat. She served both of them the main helping of rice and curry, before replacing their lids and letting him serve his own bread and vegetables.

Curiously, Dekna crudely grasped his bread and set it on his plate, watching as Valentina took a slice of lime, squeezed it on her food and added a large spoonful of a grainy brown paste that said 'vermachili' on the jar. She ripped off a small piece of the bread and dipped it in the paste, and then the curry before popping ti in her mouth with a satisfied sigh.

Dekna ate a little of his own bread cautiously. When that proved to be tasty and warm, he proceeded to copy what Valentina had done. As he dipped his bread into his vermachilli and curry, he caught her amused, eyebrow raised gaze. "What?" he asked warily.

She shook her head with a smirk. "Nothing. It's just, I wouldn't eat too much in one go; I wasn't taught to use my spices half heartedly."

He growled at her doubtfulness. Now that his masculine pride was called to question, he shoved food into his mouth and lathered it in saliva with his tongue.

Mentally, in Valentina's head, she counted to three. Dekna's face turned several colours, metaphorical steam coming out of his ears. His eyes bulged and watered, the natural rumble of his breath stuttering from the force of the sensations in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed deeply, breathing slowly. After a long pause, Valentina said, "Well?"

Dekna's mandibles pulled into his usual cocky grin. "Ooman food not so bad. Tingles."

Valentina gaped at him for a second, before throwing her head back in laughter. Soon Dekna chuckled as well, and they carried on with their meal.

A little while later, Valentina was back to asking her usual assortment of questions. "So, what's your job back home?"

Dekna swallowed the water in his mouth, nonchalantly cracking an ice cube on the way down. "Am hunter, like most Yautja males."

Valentina bit her lip in thought. "So, do you sell your kills for money?"

"_Sei." _

"What does that mark mean? It's the same as the one on your mask, isn't it?"

Dekna rubbed the 'T' mark on his forehead with pride and fondness, puffing out his chest in a way that made Valentina roll her eyes. "Means I am blooded, have passed my _chiva." _

"Yeah, you mentioned that before, like a right of passage. What sort of stuff do you have to do?"

"Hunt _kiande amedhas __**[xenomorphs]. **_In my clan, must kill 3 to gain mark honourably. The blood of our kills is used to make the mark."

Valentina paused, a fork of chicken stopped halfway on its journey to her mouth. "Say what now?"

Dekna snorted, but humoured her as usual. "Blood of _kiande amedhas _is acidic. Armour and weapons must be specially made to withstand effects. Cauterises mark once it is done. Tradition."

"D-does it hurt? I mean…wow."

Dekna rolled his eyes.

"Dude…"

"_Sei." _

They sat in a comfortable silence until both were done. After some grumbling by Dekna and a couple of creative threats on Valentina's part, they worked together to clean away their plates and pack the leftover in the fridge for the next day. Valentina made a mental note that Dekna had extremely enjoyed the curry. She smirked in triumph; it was nice to have converted some to her way of eating. Tilly was a pure all American eater through and through, and Marcus hated anything that came from hot, sunny countries, due to his relationship with his sensitive skin cells and the sun.

A little while later, they found themselves in the living room, with the DAB radio crooning away some wispy old soul song. "Dekna?"

Grunt.

"Why do you hunt us?"

He popped his eyes open, stiffening at the sensitive subject. Resorting to his natural Yautja bluntness, he answered. "Oomans are cunning, cleverer than other prey. Good sport."

"Ok…" Valentina returned to doodling around her latest entry in the spook book. "Don't you find it weird how similar our races are?"

Dekna gave her an incredulous look, growling "Hardly! Yautja are stronger, faster-"

"Yeah, I get it, you can kick our asses blah blah blah! I only meant, I mean…" she groaned at her ineptitude with the words in her brain. Suddenly she jumped down her side of the couch and slide over to him. "Look at us! Legs, arms, a torso, face." Dekna stiffened, but resisted moving away as she prodded each part she named, only not making contact with the face. "It's just freaky! I'm by no means religious but…I wonder _why." _

Dekna paused for a second, clicking and tilting his head at the curious creature in front of him. While she did appear to him to look strange without a set of mandibles and tubes of fleshy hair, the ooman female had a point. He pondered her thoughts as they now became his own. "Yautja believe in the Black warrior, the dark hunter, Cetanu. We meet him when we die. The goddess Paya is our mother, life. We abandon them when we abandon our honour."

Valentina hummed contently, relaxing back. "That's very Japanese of you."

He huffed with indignation. "_H'ko. __**[no.] **_very _Yautja_ of me."

"How did you learn English?"

"Sire is fluent. Also pick up from oomans in hunts."

Valentina already had learnt that 'sire' meant father to Dekna. However she still gave him an incredulous look. "What, did you sit down at chat about the weather before killing them?" 

A dark grin chilled her blood as he stared into his memories. "Something like that."

Valentina left it at that, letting the topic endless change like it did in all of there strange conversations. She absentmindedly twirled the end of her braid, until she noticed what she was doing and grimaced at the memory of her conversation with Jeanie. With a growl, she pulled at her braid and threw it over her shoulder.

Dekna trilled with amusement and gave a questioning look. Soon, she gave in and said "I need a hair cut apparently."

Much to her surprise, Dekna scowled. "Why think this, Val?"

"Well, this girl I know said that-"

She was cut off by Dekna raising his clawed hand and flicking her painfully in the forehead, like she often did to him when he took up too much of the way and wouldn't move. Valentina yelped and rubbed at the spot; while there was only a red mark, his claws had made it sting all the more. "What was that for?!" she whined.

"_Hulij-bpe __**[crazy] **__Val! _You listen to ooman advice?"

"Hey! _I'm _'ooman' as well, and I once got called Yoda by this kid a babysitted!"

Dekna rolled his eyes, not believing that she could actually look after a pup and not mentally or physically scar it afterwards. "Length is sign of age, of maturity."

Valentina pouted and crossed her arms. "Yeah, for you guys! If you tried to cut your dreads, it would be bloody painful!"

"Why not cut before?"

She frowned in thought. "Well, I never _wanted _to but-"

"Like now?"

"Yeah but-"

"Then don't cut. Simple. You oomans always overcomplicate things."

Valentina let the racist comment slide, as she pondered Dekna's meaning. Eventually, she quietly said "So, you don't think I should cut it. Sorry, it's just…I don't know, it was rolling around my head. Thanks."

Dekna rumbled in approval, watching the cackling flames in the heath. "In Yautja culture, our elders and elite warriors have longer dreads, covered in trophies. Ancients even more." An youthful, ambitious gleam entered his eyes. "One day, so will I."

"What are you now?" Valentina asked inquisitively. She hadn't seen this almost dreaming side of him before.

"Young blood. Just been blooded, but have less experience and skill."

"How long was the longest you've ever seen?"

"Your length, Ancient from another clan."

Valentina grinned mischievously, "So, 'cause I have long hair, are you saying that I'd be revered in your culture?"

Dekna paused, stared at her for a few seconds, before rumbling into the Yautja's version of a laughing fit. He clutched the sides of his ribs, barely feeling the weak slaps Valentina was giving to his arms. Finally, Dekna calmed down with tears forming in his eyes. He hadn't laughed like that since he'd left the clan ship!

Eventually, after more of their usual banter, the pair relaxed back into silence. Valentina was still fuming silently, but the weight of her fatigue was pulling her eye lids down and slowing her breaths. Soon her muscles dropped and she ended up leaning against Dekna's burly arm. He stiffened in surprise, but let it go, as he noticed that her hair was surprisingly soft and fluffy. The natural instinct to purr rose up in him. As he too started to drift off, Valentina spoke again.

"Hey…Dekna? I can speak bits of languages too…you're not the only bilingual chick here…"

Ignoring the fact that she had just called him the spawn of a chicken, he rumbled for her to continue.

"Here's some Ugandan…_hasa diga __**[fuck you] **_my friend…"

The hunter didn't really catch what she had said, and would've dismissed it anyway, since he had never hunted in Africa. All he care about was the warmth of the manor, the red fluffiness that served as a brilliant pillow, and the stretch feeling of his stomach that lulled him into a deep sleep.

**Hello my followers! **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, you know the drill, please review and tell me what you think! **

**Sooooo, Dekna and Val get to know each other a bit better, and the former is one step closer to ordering a high tech taxi ride through the cosmos home. I wonder if anyone got the 'hasa diga' reference? Ehhheeeeeee.**

**Yours truly,**

**Renzin xo **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The gritty onyx print of the legal notice stung my eyes to even read it. The pack of papers were now dog eared around the left corner's battered staple, flipped to the last page where Dear Aunt Eleanor had signed on the dotted line that faded a little at the ends. A few more bland signatures were placed by her lawyers, completing the document I had just received in the mail this morning, a morning that had previously left me feeling optimistic, actually.

_The little shits!_

My meeting with the board had been successful, as well as the presentation of the bank building in the city that we had been commissioned. Dekna hadn't broken any more vases. Marcus had texted to say he missed my fat ass, that he was sorry but that I needed to check the mail and to not hurt him once I did.

I hated myself for feeling so betrayed. I _knew _Aunt Eleanor hated Marcus and I; we were spawns of the devil to her. She was always derogatory to Mum in that crudely 'no offense _but' _manner, so we had made it a past time to prank her at every turn.

Adding itching powder to her hair removal cream.

Sticking pictures of David Radcliff naked in that weird horse photo shoot on her back when we were out with the family in the city.

Buying her an S and M set for Christmas and telling her that from the amount of times Uncle Jack bitches about her after a few rounds, that she needs to loosen up.

Then offering to take her to the nearest dark street corner to find a test buddy.

_Good times. _

And of _course, _all the nagging about how _she _deserved to get Marcus' and my inheritance, rather than a 'scraggly' yote.

Are you _kidding _me? Her father in law leaves her a giant royal blue boat that you could survive the zombie apocalypse on, even though she's been Grandpa Lionel's nemesis since _forever_, and _still _she goes on?!

In fact, nemesis is too strong a word for Lionel's opinion on her; she was too laughably _insignificant_ to him to describe her as such. As far as he was concerned, his son Jack was single and his grandson who no one had seen for years since he went to finishing school in France was dropped on the Montgomery doorstep by a stalk.

But seriously, if you think that a _bloody boat _isn't good enough for you, give it to ME! Or better yet, use it to transport antibiotics to Africa or whatever!

I've always wanted to go sailing – I've never done any other than abs sailing, and that doesn't involve water.

_Yet. _

Yeah, precisely.

I flung the papers onto the leather bound top of my desk, the hard iron nails preventing from sliding off the edge as I grasped my phone so tightly, the rubbery plastic of my batman phone case squealed from the pressure. I let out a frustrated cry when in my passion, I couldn't tap in my password correctly. Once I had, several messages from my settings that I always ignored popped up, only closing after several seconds of consistent, frenzied tapping. _Finally_, the family lawyer, Christopher R. Downton was picking up after the second call as I stared at his minimalist signature on the documents in front of me.

"Downton speaking."

"Yeah. Hi, Chris. Remember me? You know, the granddaughter of your client who you're meant to legally protect when people try to bully me? Little ol' Vallie?!" I snarled menacingly, my hand flicking my pen around the digits.

After several seconds of breathing on the other end, the _traitor_ answered. "Valentina, it's good to hear-"

"Oh spare me your BS, you walking stereotype! Are you kidding me? Why the hell have Marcus and I received notices of legal action brought to court by one Eleanor Montgomery-Jackson, and you're _head_ of the legal team representing her?!"

"Ah."

"Is that what you wrote in your entrance exam for law school, Chris? Or since we're on opposing teams, should it be Mr Downton? Mr Whipped? Satan's little bitch?" I spat venomously. I hadn't felt this truly furious and wounded for a while.

The balding man on the other side of the connection sighed. There was a familiar 'tink' sound, which I knew meant he had knocked his glasses off him nose because he had rubbed his face too vigorously. A _terrible_ habit.

_The wrinkles are strong within this one! _

I'm pretty sure that he started doing that since he was in the employment of Lionel, AKA the dude who had a restraining order put on him because he chased a woman for months, convinced that she was a cyborg.

Oh no, it couldn't be the fact that she just didn't want to sleep with you, oh maniac you.

_Mind you, it _is _unusual to find someone immune to the Montgomery charm…_

Oh shit! What if they produce a strand of antibiotics!

_They wouldn't! Would they…? _

Well-wait, now's _so _not the time for this.

_Agreed. _

"Look, Valentina-"

"_Miss _Montgomery,"

"Fine then, Miss Montgomery; Mrs Montgomery-"

"You forgot the Jackson part-"

"-Is filing a court order to re-evaluate the management of Montgomery Engineering Ltd and the bulk of the wealth that you and your sibling have inherited. The concern is that neither are qualified to successfully maintain the responsibility and mantle of the family name, and-"

"You _dare_ talk to me like that? How can you support this bull?! You've known me since I was a child; you _know _how much of a cow Aunt Eleanor is! I thought you respected Grandpa Lionel! How can you turn around and backstab him when he's indisposed to bitch slap you back?!"

"Now look here," Downton said firmly, his beefily burned finger most likely wagging on the other end, "I respected Lionel and still _do_, but even after all our years together, even I could see that he wasn't sound of mind. Don't you understand Valentina? He should have had a carer at _least_, better an elderly home even. If he'd been thinking straight, he would've _never _filled you and your brother's heads with all his made up nonsense and would've settled the fortune and company between his friends and children like he was supposed t-wait, did you just say 'indisposed'?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'SUPPOSED' TO?!"

"W-Wait that-"

"I'M A MONTGOMERY AS MUCH AS THE NEXT AND SO IS MY BROTHER!" I roared. "I don't know how we never saw you for the weasel you are, Downton, but by God do I now. Those claims are hearsay and gossip and you should _know _that if your head wasn't so far up your-"

"Now listen here you-"

"No, you will NOT interrupt me again! You are going to listen to every word I say, and when you're crying into your pillow at night, you're going to remember that this was the conversation that fucked up your puny existence, capish?" I growled, ink splattering from the pen that I had snapped in half. "Every single goal and profit margin at Montgomery Engineering Ltd has been sustained and met, both Marcus and I were clever enough to finish university even after inheriting, and our costs are covered from our own salaries."

"Aunt Eleanor hasn't done a day of work in her goddamn life, which is her choice, but no way in hell does that give her the right to look down on me because I'm half her age and yet _still_ was mature enough to overlook Grandpa's eccentricities and get on with him. You have _fuck_ _all_ supporting your 'case', Downton, and you can bet your ass Marcus and I are going to get a _real _lawyer and hunt you down, Liam Nielson style. Have a lovely day!" And with that, I slammed my thumb on the red button and ended my call.

_Oh heavens. _

Is this what being God feels like?

…_I like it._

A howl from below me grabs my attention. Tiny pads forward, his paws lost in the dense fibres of the Persian rug, and for once, isn't wearing a 'fuck you' expression.

"Hey, baby. Momma kicked ass, you know that?" He purred as I scratched his ears, rubbing deeply against the thick seam of my jeans along my legs. I sighed, pinching my brow before smoothing it out and picking up Tiny with practiced care. Pulling my desk chair out with my foot, I planted myself down, letting Tiny circle my lap to get comfy. I found a runaway hair band and pulled it through my hair, revelling in the feeling of stretching my roots. I twirled it and secured it into a high bun, looping the hair band until I couldn't even fit my finger through a last time.

_Still need to re dye my hair._

As I opened up my laptop, my diary for the week popped up; the week seemed more hectic than usual, but with the fluidity of the bank project so far, the work ought to be straightforward. A missed call from Marcus on Skype brought a twitching smile through my face as I feverishly stroked Tiny to calm myself down. He was offline now, so I opted to call on my phone again.

_Twin telepathy an' all. _

Even though Marcus is a year older…

"'You got Monti on the line,"

I snorted out of habit, the usual response when talking to brother bear. "'Monti'? You better not write Marcus Monti on your will, bro."

"SIS! Wassup Vallie, 'you read the piece of shit yet?" The cadence of his voice rolled from his naturally deep voice to high ones in his excitement.

"You _betcha_. I've just had a little _chat_ with Downton."

"Ohhh, 'Downton' eh? Do tell!"

"In a nutshell, I whooped his ass." I said, smugness emanating boldly.

Marcus laughed loudly and banged something for emphasis. "That's sick, sis! You make me so proud!"

"I know. Bow down to moi, _poulet_!"

"Yeah, not going to happen. And did you just call me a chicken in French?! Dude, now I'm hungry!"

I slapped my forehead and groaned, my stomach mimicking it, complaining about not eating since my morning exercise routine. "Dammit, that backfired, now I really want some as well. Its just, _poulet_ is such a pretty word to say!" I whined.

Marcus sighed dramatically, and then in a very Gandalf like voice, "You have doomed us all, young one!"

"By one year man! Arggg!"

"And yet I'm still better looking!"

"Shut up! _You _have to wear male makeup to work!"

Marcus snorted in a very _mannish _way. "Yeah, so does _most_ of Manhattan. You really need to visit, sis."

I sighed with longing. While having Dekna as a roommate was awesome, I didn't want to think about what would happen if I left him alone for the weekend. Despite what _he _says, it is a perfectly reasonable thing to clean the house every day and vacuum the entire kitchen when something spills.

_Duh. _

No one knows how to look after my Manor like _I _do.

"I know, Marcus, I will soon, I promise. But as lovely as it is to know that you're still breathing, you know why I called. How long have you known about this?"

I could practically feel the shrug he gave from the amplified shuffling sound. "You know what I'm like with mail; I think I got it a few days ago by post, but I only checked it last night. I called Grandpa Alfred as well, you know, Lionel's brother in Australia?"

I paused my stroking of Tiny's belly with shock. "You mean the twin who is some sort of warlord in the weapon industry for the aussies? I didn't even _know_ there was a way to contact him."

"Well, actually _he _called _me. _Said that he's coming over to my apartment in a couple of days, and told me to get you there as well. Something about a battle plan."

"Wow. Ok, he sounds just like Lionel, but I imagine him to have a handmade necklace of bullet shells as well."

"And the teeth of all the Great White's he's wrestled with."

"Can't forget those."

There was a pause of digesting our rapid conversation, before both lines burst into violent laughter. By the time we had calmed down, I was rubbing my eyes, trying to force my lungs to accept air, while Tiny had harrumphed and disappeared again with the lack of attention. "Markie, I've missed you so much! Have you talked to Mum and Dad about this? I haven't spoken to them for a few days."

"I spoke to Mum yesterday, but that was because she was crying again. Something about seeing me naked on a billboard by the interstate." I laughed, imagining the wide Cheshire grin he probably had on.

"Which one? The Versace one or the one with all the leather?" I leer.

"You making it sound fucked up man! I get paid good shit for that stuff!"

"Well, you certainly made Tilly's day; she called me a while back, wouldn't stop talking about it until she got out of traffic an hour later. Apparently you could use with a tan, but the thigh muscles are looking good."

"Oh…_realllllllyyyy…" _I felt like dry heaving from the prolonged sexual tension between those two. Bleh.

"Marcus, you know I'm proud of you for being a genetic goldmine, but seriously, TMI."

All the idiot does is laugh like I've cracked some hilarious joke.

_Dingus. _

Seconded.

"Hey!"

I paused. "I was talking out loud again, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, and the other voice."

"Damnit-wait, _hey_!"

"Bye-Vallie-love-you-see-you-in-a-few-days-don't-forget-to-call-our-biological-creators!"

"Come back you toad! I never said I was coming! Wha-" I cut myself off and groan, the dial tone ringing in my ear. Great, just _great_.

How could I leave the Manor unattended with a giant lizard and an overweight cat, neither of which can remember where the duster is or bother to cook? I could imagine it now, walking through the front door after being away for who knows how long to find the rotting corpses of those two sorry cases, reaching towards the TV remote.

_Why me?_

When I walked into the basement, Dekna was glistening like an emerald, covered into perspiration and viciously mauling the punching bag. I'd seen his routine before; from what I remembered, he was cooling down now, and would be out of the house with is newly installed cloaking device for a run around. The function used to be installed into his wrist console, but he decided to remove the device and repair it separately to reinstall once the rest was finished. Pretty nifty, if not for the fact that he dismantled my _radio_ to get more wires.

_Is it really that hard to _ask _where extras are kept? _

I know he's heard me walk into the room, so without a greeting I walked over to my racks of gear and pulled out my boxing gloves, the matching pair already on Dekna's fists (the seams close to ripping of coarse). My habit of wearing my wrist blades had been forgotten, and replaced with the most likely naïve trust of friendship that I have with the Yautjan.

As I approached, he delivered one last bone breaking back kick, executing it perfectly, and turned to show me his usual preening, cocky smirk.

"In awe, _sei?" _

"My ovaries are _humming_, Crockie." I rebut sarcastically.

He scowled at the name, but followed me anyway to the centre of the space as we start to bounce on the spot in fighting stance. He's tired physically, and I mentally and emotionally, so only quick, light blows are delivered. All the anger I have is still boiling, but talking to Marcus has helped me to cool down. We've only sparred a couple of times, starting from a leering bet aimed at me. With a cackling grin, Dekna was on the floor in seconds, dealing with whiplash and a _puny_ human who had an imaginary gun pointed between his eyes. Consequently, I spent the rest of the day hiding with only my ego for company. The next times didn't exactly favour me. While I hadn't been flattened _yet _as I was faster, I could never land strong enough punches. He knew I relied on my kicks for a take down, and would test my improvisation skills to find an opening.

Dekna could smell the unease rolling of the female in front of him. Unbeknownst to Valentina, he had finished his training 20 minutes ago, and had snuck up stairs with his cloaking device to dump a bucket of ice water filled with concentrated green dye on her for waking up with rather explicit drawings all over his body. Along with some childish penis' and a moustache, Valentina had also drawn on full sleeves of pin up like tattoo designs, including a heart and arrow with 'I love my bearer' on. Even worse, as his pebbled scales didn't produce as much oil as human skin, the 'Sharpie' ink took a lot of rubbing in the shower to get off.

However instead Dekna had hidden the bucket for later, deciding that perhaps after listening to the two phone calls, his roommate ought to be let off.

Just this once.

Dekna was an aggressive Young Blood, and while skilled and intelligent, still had the thick skull and banter like nature most youths had. Oddly enough, Valentina had similar qualities. Both were passionate and rash at times, but though Dekna would never agree with this, the female was actually a lot more tactical and rational than he was at times.

He actual felt twinges of pride for her, and admiration as she held her ground against the family traitor who was questioning her own honour. Already, he was formulating a way of hunting this 'Downton' down and skinning him without Valentina noticing his absence.

And even after the conversation with her brother (who Dekna was very curious to meet), he could still smell the suppressed frustration and anger in her. His Sire had always taught him to deal with his emotions by confronting them and accepting them to _control_ them, to _channel_ them, and while he wasn't exactly the master of that (yet), he knew just how to help Valentina.

Abruptly, he upped the level of spar with a series of quick, hard punches, all blocked but still forcing his partner on the defence. With a growl, she lodged her own attack.

A long while later, both sat on the concrete floor, gulping down water with ragged breaths and content sighs. Dekna had won this round, but was sporting a lot of sore areas that would bruise. Strangely though, it didn't bother him too much, and he was happy to take in Valentina's lazy smile and peaceful scent.

**Duh duh duh! **

**Aunt Eleanor strikes! So, a fire starts in the Montgomery clan, and Dekna and Val have some bonding, punch up time, as well as an appearance from beloved brother Marcus! **

**Currently I am sitting here eating mushroom pot noodles and listening to my own brother sing his rendition of Anaconda. Life is beautiful, isn't it? **

**Don't forget to review, and thank you for reading!**

**Love, **

**Renzin xo**


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